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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25016692">Take The Pieces (Build Them Skywards)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bright_lights_big_dreams/pseuds/bright_lights_big_dreams'>bright_lights_big_dreams</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The 100 (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angry Clarke Griffin, Angst, Artist Clarke Griffin, Bellarke, Best Friends, F/M, Finn's a dick but whats new?, Friends With Benefits, Hurt/Comfort, Murphy is great, Team Cockroach, a stupid amount of impassioned speeches and crying, friendship break-up, lovers to friends to not friends to maybe friends to lovers, mentions of drug addiction, pretty much Bellamy fucked up and Clarke's pissed off and they're both sad, title from machines - Biffy Clyro</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:27:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>21,190</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25016692</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bright_lights_big_dreams/pseuds/bright_lights_big_dreams</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>She debates her options. She had been so looking forward to getting home and collapsing into her bed for a few hours, or maybe having a nice bath, perhaps even treating herself to takeaway as a reward for getting through this horrific day at the gallery. Instead, Bellamy Blake, possible ex-best friend who she is definitely not speaking to at the moment, is standing by her door. She doesn’t want to deal with him now, maybe ever. He hasn’t seen her yet. He's leaning against her door frame but concentrating on his phone - probably lying to their friends about where he is; she couldn’t imagine that Raven would be too happy to know that he was trying to talk to her.</p><p>-</p><p>Clarke needed Bellamy and he wasn't there. She isn't sure she can forgive him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>282</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>oops here we go again. This is just gonna be a cute lil three parter that includes copious amounts of crying, swearing, anger, hurt, comfort, you name it. Idek why I'm writing this. My bad. Have fun.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Clarke freezes, legs turning to lead as she see’s him standing awkwardly by the door to her apartment. Bellamy is the last person she wants to see right now. Even seeing him from down the corridor is making her skin prickle with residual anger.</p>
<p>She debates her options. She had been so looking forward to getting home and collapsing into her bed for a few hours, or maybe having a nice bath, perhaps even treating herself to takeaway as a reward for getting through this horrific day at the gallery. Instead, Bellamy Blake, possible ex-best friend who she is definitely not speaking to at the moment, is standing by her door. She doesn’t want to deal with him now, maybe ever. He hasn’t seen her yet. He's leaning against her door frame but concentrating on his phone - probably lying to their friends about where he is; she couldn’t imagine that Raven would be too happy to know that he was trying to talk to her.</p>
<p>She could head to Wells’ place; he wouldn’t mind her spending the evening there. Although, he does live on the other side of town and she does recall him mentioning a big project at work last weekend when they’d gotten drunk off cheap wine and she’d cried on him about the fact that all her friends hated her now. She had also cried about how much she hated the complete asshole-wanker-dickhead that was Bellamy Blake - not her finest moment (or most impressive insult, but hey, people couldn’t expect her to be smart all the time, especially two bottles of wine down).</p>
<p>Murphy probably wouldn’t mind her showing up at his apartment, it was certainly a lot closer than Wells. He’d mentioned his plans to get some weed and just get super stoned as they were leaving the gallery today, and that was an idea Clarke could get behind. She’s made up her mind, ready to turn around and head back down the stairs but her luck apparently runs out.</p>
<p>“Clarke!” She could try and walk away; pretend she didn’t hear him and just avoid the confrontation that she really doesn’t want to have.</p>
<p>He says her name again though, more insistent this time. She plasters the iciest look she can muster up on her face and shoots him a cold glare as she stalks towards her apartment.</p>
<p>“What do you want, Bellamy?” She hopes the iciness is obvious in her voice as well.</p>
<p>“I want to talk to you. See how you are.” Bellamy says the words like he’s making a completely reasonable request. He isn’t.</p>
<p>Clarke scoffs, and wants to say ‘it’s a shame you couldn’t have done that a few weeks ago, when I actually needed you, rather than ignoring me and going off with our friends who all hate me, which, coincidentally, is definitely partly your fault’, but she doesn’t. Instead, as she’s pulling her keys out of her bag she just says, “That’s nice. I’m fine. Text next time.”</p>
<p>“I did,” He responds dryly, “Quite a few times. And I called. You ignored me.”</p>
<p>She really hopes he doesn’t notice the slight shake in her fingers as she tries to slide the key into the lock. “Get the message then, I don’t want to talk to you.” </p>
<p>Again, what she’d really wanted to say was more along the lines of ‘only after you ignored me for weeks and left me coping with my life so incredibly badly that John fucking Murphy felt so bad for me that he gave me weed and let me spill my heart to him’. Murphy had never been known for his tact, or showing any general human-like emotions really, but he had been a surprisingly good therapist. He had also found her crying in the toilets after work, so he didn’t really have a choice. Still, it was nice to know that he cared enough not to just pretend he had no idea she was there and pretend it never happened.</p>
<p> She finally manages to get the key in the lock and swings her door open.</p>
<p>“Look, Clarke. I know you’re pissed at me but I wasn’t entirely in the wrong and you know that. You fucked up too.” Bellamy follows her into the apartment before she has time to even think about slamming the door on his face.</p>
<p>He’s right, to an extent. She knows what she did was wrong, but there were definitely mitigating circumstances and he definitely didn’t have to run straight to Raven when Clarke had told him she’d tell her herself in a few days. Once again, she doesn’t even try and say that out loud, instead just remarking, “I don’t remember inviting you in.” </p>
<p>She shuts the door anyway, dropping her coat and bag by the door and heading towards the living room, rolling her eyes as she sees him hang up the discarded bag and coat on the door hooks. He really can’t help himself – he’s always hated how messy she is. She isn’t sure what it says about her that she feels a shot of satisfaction run up her spine at just how uncomfortable he’s going to be in her apartment. It’s a mess – on the verge of downright disgusting honestly and she certainly isn’t proud of it, but right now he’s probably fighting the urge to go and throw up somewhere so perhaps it isn’t always such a bad thing.  Anyway, he knows that her ability to look after herself is the first thing that drops off when things in her life get fucked up, surely he can’t have been expecting to see anything different.</p>
<p>He follows her into the room, purposefully situating himself in the area with the least amount of dirty clothes and plates and general clutter, “We’ve got to talk about this at some point, Clarke. You can’t ignore me forever. You kissed Finn, and you can’t just run away because you don’t want to deal with the consequences. You can’t hate me because I told Raven.”</p>
<p>Clarke freezes again, and takes a deep breath to try and calm the guilt that jumps up her throat. She did kiss Finn, and she knows how disgusting of her it was, knows that being drunk and sad wasn’t an excuse, but it was certainly a factor. She’d had a horrific day. There was an exhibition starting at the gallery a few days later and some of her work was being displayed, only a couple of pieces but it was the first time it was actually happening. Even though she was obviously excited, she was also in charge of organising the entire event and that was a horrific amount of stress, especially seeing as Murphy had booked the days leading up to the exhibition of work months ago, before they’d even chosen the dates it would be. </p>
<p>The stress, paired with a parking ticket and a vicious argument with her mother after discovering she’d relapsed yet again had sent Clarke directly to the closest shitty bar she could find to get as drunk as she possibly could. She had spent however long there, downing drink after drink, before realising that she actually needed to get home, and apparently ordering an uber hadn’t occurred to drunk her. She wished it had; all this trouble could have been avoided otherwise. She’d called Bellamy first, of course, but he hadn’t picked up, so then she’d called Raven but when Finn answered her phone and offered to come and get her, she hadn’t seen an issue with it. She had seen the issue when they’d ended up making out in his car outside the front of her apartment. Clarke still isn’t quite sure how it happened, the details are hazy at best but she knows she was sad and then she knows she was kissing Finn. As soon as she’d realised that she wasn’t supposed to be kissing him, that he was Raven’s long-term boyfriend she’d stopped, but the damage had already been done and she knew it. Somehow, she’d gotten herself out of the car, into her apartment and into bed, and it hadn’t taken her long to pass out.</p>
<p>She had woken up with a horrific headache and a heavy rock of guilt pitted in her stomach, so she’d called the one person she had been sure she could talk through everything with and would help her out. Bellamy. He’d been sympathetic at first, listening to her explain why she had needed to get so drunk but as soon as she told him about Finn he had switched, insisting that she had to tell Raven. She knew she did, and had told him that she would, as soon as the exhibit was up and running and she’d sorted out what she needed to do with her mom, all she’d needed was a few days to get everything together. That hadn’t been enough though, and she understood. Bellamy hated lying to people, especially those that he loved but the last thing she had needed was Raven showing up at her apartment to scream at her as she tried to organise her mother going back to rehab. She had taken it though, taken the insults and accusations and did her best to apologise, but it wasn’t enough, and within hours she’d been officially uninvited from all plans and removed from all group chats. She would have been fine, could have coped with that until Bellamy turned on her as well; telling her he needed ‘time’ to think about everything, whatever the fuck that had meant. </p>
<p>“You’re wrong,” Clarke works hard to keep her voice steady, “I don’t hate you because you told Raven what happened, I hate you because you abandoned me afterwards. You knew what I was going through, about all the shit that had been happening. You knew that I was vulnerable and that you’d just made everything even worse by making all of our friends turn on me, and you left anyway. You left me alone to deal with the fallout of your choice when I already had so much else to deal with.”</p>
<p>“Clarke-“ Bellamy’s voice is low, quiet, but Clarke’s not ready to stop talking yet. She doesn’t generally talk about how she’s feeling, but once she starts she finds it incredibly hard to stop, especially when she’s angry, which right now she is because <i>all<i> she had wanted was a relaxing evening, and she couldn’t even have that.</i></i></p>
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<p>“I <i>needed<i> you, Bellamy. I thought I would always be able to rely on you, but when I needed you most, you weren’t there,” She takes another deep breath, not liking the hurt she heard in her voice, “I’d invited you all to that exhibition specially, remember? Because it was the first time my art was being displayed and I wanted to surprise you all. It was the piece I painted after we all went camping, and I’d written up some long spiel about friendship to go along with it, but then I had no friends to show up and see it.”</i></i></p>
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<p>Clarke lets out a dry laugh, and Bellamy doesn’t say a word; just looks at her with an expression in his eyes she can’t quite place. She keeps going anyway.</p>
<p>“Then, as soon as the exhibition was over, I had to take a few days off to go and see my mom and physically drive her to the new rehab facility, because there was no way in hell she’d take herself there. She tried everything to get me to change my mind. She cried and begged and when that didn’t work she shouted and reminded me how much of a disappointment I was, you know, being a bisexual artist instead of a straight doctor like she’d always wanted,” Clarke knows her mother didn’t mean that, she’d apologised not even an hour later, begging Clarke for forgiveness and just one more chance to change on her own, “Then, I came home, to my empty apartment and there was no one I could turn to. You always used to promise me that wherever you were, whatever you were doing, if I called, you’d be there. I called you that night, and you weren’t there Bell. You cut the call off.”</p>
<p>Clarke can feel herself losing her composure, hear the cracks in her voice and the catching in her throat. She doesn’t want to cry, especially not in front of Bellamy, not anymore.</p>
<p>“Clarke,” Bellamy’s voice cracks too, “I’m sorry. I am, but I needed <i>time<i>. I needed to get my head around things-“</i></i></p>
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<p>Clarke cuts him off with an irritated noise, “Yeah, that’s what you said, although I’m not really sure what you needed time for. It wasn’t you who had just found out that their mom had relapsed and it wasn’t you who was in the middle of the biggest week of their life at work and it definitely wasn’t you that had been so drunk and so messed up that you ended up making out with your friends boyfriend. Actually, as Murphy so kindly pointed out,” Bellamy made a confused face at the sound of Murphy’s name, having never been his biggest fan, “Yeah, Murphy, he’s actually not always a dick, especially when he finds you in the middle of a breakdown at work because your whole life is falling apart. Anyway, it took Murphy pointing out to me that I was clearly way too drunk to consent to anything with anyone that I realised it wasn’t even my fault, not really. Yes, I made out with him for a bit but I hardly knew what was going on, he took advantage of me when I was clearly drunk and upset, and that isn’t my fault.”</p>
<p>Bellamy’s face twists then, and Clarke can tell he hadn’t thought about it that way before. “Clarke,” He’s trying to choose the right words, she can see his mind racing, trying to work out what he’s supposed to say to fix everything, because that’s what he usually does – Bellamy Blake the responsible friend who always knows the right thing to do, “I didn’t – I wasn’t,” he takes another deep breath, “I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>Clarke shrugs and thinks for a moment whether she wants to deal the killer blow. There’s one more thing that happened that is sure to make him guilty, but she wants him to hurt, she wants him to feel even a fraction of the shit she’s been feeling these past couple of weeks. She goes for it.</p>
<p>“You want to know the worst part? I was so caught up with my mom and work and you, that I forgot about the anniversary of my dad’s death,” Clarke bites out the words, tears springing to her eyes that she can’t stop; she doesn’t even bother trying to wipe them away, “I didn’t realise until almost a week later. It’s the first time I’ve not been to his grave on the day it happened, you know? I tried to go the next day, but I couldn’t find those blue flowers he liked anywhere, and it felt wrong to go without them, so I just didn’t.”</p>
<p>Clarke’s crying in earnest now, tears streaming down her face, snot running from her nose, the whole show. She’s honestly surprised she kept hold of her emotions for as long as she did.</p>
<p>Bellamy’s looking at her with regret and hurt and pain in his eyes and she feels good about it, good that she’s made him feel as shit as he made her feel, but the satisfaction only lasts for a moment until it’s replaced by sadness and anger again. That’s all she’s been feeling recently. </p>
<p>Bellamy hates seeing people cry, hates seeing <i>her<i> cry especially. Whenever she would before he would do anything and everything he could to make her happy, but now he just stands there, not knowing what he can do. It’s strange, him not knowing how to act around her – they’ve been so close for so long, and before all of this it had never crossed Clarke’s mind that one day they might not be so close.</i></i></p>
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<p>In the end he reaches an arm out, tries to place his hand on the top of her arm but she pulls it away from him like he’s burnt her, even if half of her is screaming out to let herself collapse into his arms and let him hold her. </p>
<p>“I want you to go, Bellamy.” She manages to choke out, having completely given up on trying to show him any semblance of stability. </p>
<p>“I- no. I don’t want to leave you like this. Tell me what I can do to make this better, and I’ll do it. Please, Clarke.” His voice is choked too, the panic in his face so obvious it’s almost laughable. He’s always been too easy to read. </p>
<p>She shakes her head, lifting her arm to wipe away tears and snot with her sleeve. She walks towards the front door, planning on opening it and forcing him out of it if she needs to, but she has to walk past him to do that, and when she gets close enough he reaches out again, moving slightly so that she’s face to face with him, half-blocking her route to the door. With anyone else it might be intimidating, but this is Bellamy, and despite how angry she is, being this close to his warm chest and familiar scent and strong arms is so instinctively comforting that she lets him stop her.</p>
<p>“There’s nothing you can do.” She looks up at him to see his brown eyes shiny with his own tears.</p>
<p>Bellamy shakes his head insistently, “That’s not true Clarke. I’m not letting this ruin us.”</p>
<p>Those words send another surge of anger pulsing through her veins, can he not see that he’s already ruined them? She lifts both of her arms to push at his chest because it’s the only way she can think to accurately depict her feelings towards him and <i>god<i> she just wants to touch him. Her shoves don’t even hint at moving him from his spot. She tries again, harder this time, repeatedly hitting her hands against his chest as she sobs and chokes out unintelligible words. He lets her, wrapping his arms around her heaving shoulders as she pushes against his chest but somehow leans into him at the same time. He holds her until she stops fighting and she buries herself into his chest, sobbing into his shirt and letting herself be overwhelmed by the feeling of him. She missed him. She missed him and she still hates him and she can’t <i>think<i>.</i></i></i></i></p>
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<p>“I hate you.” She croaks out into his chest. The words are muffled by his shirt but she knows he hears them by the way his body hitches and his breath catches in his throat. She still doesn’t let him go though; fingers clawed into the material of his shirt so tightly she thinks she might be cutting off her circulation.</p>
<p>“I know,” Is what he says in response, voice barely above a whisper. His arms wrap tighter around her shoulders and he pulls her closer towards him if that’s even possible. He takes another deep breath above her. She thinks he might be crying – his voice is thick, the way it goes when he’s upset, “I know you do.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well you look like shit today.” Murphy’s familiar drawl greets Clarke as she enters the office they share at the gallery. She would be offended but after two years of working with him she’s got used to his bluntness. </p>
<p>“Good morning to you too Murphy. It’s always so good to see you.” Clarke replies equally as dryly, collapsing into her chair and dropping her head down on to her desk. The day hadn’t even started yet and she was already exhausted. “I hate my life.” She added on, head still firmly planted on the uncomfortable wood.</p>
<p>She hears Murphy rolling over to her, obviously still sat on his office chair. “Head up, Griffin,” He orders, placing his hands either side of her forehead and physically lifting her head to look at him, “What’s happened now?”</p>
<p>She takes a deep breath. Murphy is going to kill her when she tells him about the night before. Oh well. Death would be nice right now.</p>
<p>“I got home last night and Bellamy was waiting outside my apartment.” Clarke informs him, letting out a snort at the grimace that forms on his face. Bellamy and Murphy had experienced a few run ins over the years. Neither of them was fond of the other.</p>
<p>“Dick. I hope you told him to fuck off and eat his own shit or something.”</p>
<p>“Yeah. I totally did that.” Clarke waited a moment too long to reply, and Murphy noticed.</p>
<p>“What did you do, Clarke?” He’s annoyingly good at reading her. She doesn’t like it. Especially since he’s currently speaking to her like a disappointed parental figure. She has one of those already.</p>
<p>She groaned, straightening up her back to look at Murphy directly, “He came in, and I had a massive go at him, it was great! I definitely hurt him, and maybe I’m a bitch but that felt pretty good,” She stops talking, but Murphy just raises his brows at her and waits for her to keep going, “However, I did also upset me in the process of upsetting him.”</p>
<p>“And?” Murphy is speaking like he already knows what’s coming next. He probably does.</p>
<p>“And then I ended up crying on him for like an hour.” Clarke admits, holding her bottom lip in between her teeth until it stings. She was so embarrassing.</p>
<p>“And then you kicked him out when you were done using him as a tissue?” Murphy suggests hopefully. </p>
<p>She wishes. She really <i>fucking<i> wishes.</i></i></p>
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<p>“He cooked me dinner.” Clarke blurts out. She still isn’t really sure how it happened. One moment she’d been crying on him and then he was searching through her kitchen cupboards and berating her on the lack of food in there.</p>
<p>“Why the fuck?” Murphy spits out, clearly exasperated with her inability to get rid of him. She felt the exact same way.</p>
<p>“Well, he was being all like,” Clarke lowers her voice into a gruff tone that is the perfect impersonation of Bellamy, if she does say so herself, “‘What can I do to make this better’, so I, very sarcastically, suggested him making me dinner, seeing as he’d completely ruined my evening.”</p>
<p>“Which he did, because he’s Bellamy and refuses to take a hint, I understand. After you ate whatever shitty meal he cooked you decided it really was time for him to fuck off and harass someone else.” Murphy raises an eyebrow as if he’s asking a question. He really was rooting for her, wasn’t he? How sweet.</p>
<p>Clarke just shakes her head.</p>
<p>“Christ, Griffin!” He groans, pushing himself away from the desk and spinning himself around on his chair a few times, taking a couple of deep breaths before returning to her side, “How much worse can this get? You do remember that Bellamy completely fucked you over and then abandoned you! He shouldn’t have even made into your apartment.”</p>
<p>It gets so much worse.<br/>
So.<br/>
Much.<br/>
Worse.</p>
<p>She doesn’t say that bit out loud, just continues to tell Murphy what happened after they’d eaten. “He kept trying to talk to me and apologise, and then I just got angry again, cause, you know, once I get angry, I stay angry. And then I cried again, and because I was crying, he wouldn’t leave - you know what he’s like when I cry.” Clarke explains and Murphy nods, he knows exactly what Bellamy’s like when Clarke cries. He once had the unfortunate experience of dealing with him when he had rushed to see Clarke when she had gotten some bad news whilst at work. Murphy had been working out front that day, and refused to let Bellamy through to the offices, seeing as it was against the rules. Bellamy had taken that extremely badly.</p>
<p>“So, what happened after that?”</p>
<p>He’s staring at her, but she refuses to meet his eye. What happened next is <i>definitely<i> the worst part and the reason she is debating the merits of launching herself off the nearest bridge.</i></i></p>
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<p>“Clarke,” Realisation seems to wash over Murphy halfway through saying her name, “Tell me you didn’t.”</p>
<p>Clarke meets his eyes reluctantly, all the confirmation that he needs. </p>
<p>She says it anyway, dropping her head back to desk before she speaks, “We had sex.”</p>
<p>It definitely wasn’t the first time she’d had sex with Bellamy. When they’d first met, they’d had a very successful friends with benefits arrangement, but mostly without the friends part; they’d just had really good sex and hated each other the rest of the time.</p>
<p>At some point that had changed though, and they had acknowledged that maybe they didn’t hate each other so much, at which point they decided to call the benefits off, neither of them wanting a relationship and also not wanting to mess up their budding friendship with sex. They’d had a few slip ups in the first few months, but other than that they had successfully secured their position as platonic best friends that definitely did not fuck. Until last night, when her anger had somehow turned into horniness and they’d started arguing about lots of different things and he’d ended up fucking her into her mattress from behind, after he’d already made her cum with his mouth and his fingers. He’d always been ridiculously good at sex. It was unfair.</p>
<p>He’d ended up staying over too. Clarke liked cuddles after she got fucked. Sue her.</p>
<p>“I cannot believe you, Clarke. How do you always make the worst choices possible?” Murphy looks like he’s at a loss, she doesn’t blame him.</p>
<p>“I don’t know! He was just there and suddenly I wanted him. I made sure he knew that it didn’t change anything, though.” She tacks on, like it makes a difference.</p>
<p>“How did you do that?” Murphy seems unimpressed, then again, he always does.</p>
<p>“I left him a note.” It’s weak and she knows it.</p>
<p>She watches Murphy’s face as he processes the words. “You’re telling me that you left him asleep in your bed this morning, and left him a note to remind him that you don’t like him?”</p>
<p>Clarke nods, “It was a very blunt note, and I stuck it to the door so he couldn’t miss it.”</p>
<p>Murphy doesn’t respond, just shakes his head and rolls back to his desk. Clarke takes that as her cue to actually start work for the day, which she does, and she’s definitely <i>not<i> thinking about Bellamy the whole day.</i></i></p>
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<p>He isn’t waiting for her when she gets home today, thank goodness. Clarke doesn’t know what she’d have done if he was there again (have a complete breakdown appears to be the most obvious answer springing to her mind, but thankfully she doesn’t have to do that). There is, however, no way that she can block the entirety of yesterdays unfortunate events from her memory, seeing as before he left her apartment today, he tidied the entire place. All her washing up is done and put away, he’s cleaned up the dirty clothes and done multiple loads of laundry – he’s even done the vacuuming and dusting and <i>God<i> she really hates him. </i></i></p>
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<p>She finds the note she left him lying on her pillow. She had carefully written out a few simple words before she left this morning –<br/>
<b>This changes nothing. I still don’t want to see or talk to you. Goodbye.<b></b></b></p>
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<p>Bellamy, of course, had written out a reply –<br/>
<b>I am truly sorry Clarke; I swear to you. I will do whatever it takes to make this up to you. I understand that I let you down and I won’t make that mistake again. I am here for you, whatever you need or want from me, I’ll do it. You’re still my best friend and I love you.<b></b></b></p>
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<p>Fuck him. She really doesn’t like him. He makes it so goddamn hard to be angry sometimes. She still is though; incredibly angry, actually. He doesn’t get to earn her forgiveness just by fixing the things that wouldn’t even be broken if he hadn’t fucked them up in the first place. She doesn’t need him anymore.</p>
<p>Clarke doesn’t hear anything from him over the next few days – she lets herself hope that the fact she hasn’t reached out is putting him off, but she also can’t stop the pang of rejection she feels. She doesn’t <i>want<i> to see him, it’s just that he’d promised he’d fix things and if he gives up this easily then he was either lying or she didn’t matter to him at all.</i></i></p>
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<p>Honestly, she had no clue what she wanted.</p>
<p>What she definitely didn’t want, though, was for him to randomly show up at her workplace. That didn’t stop him from waltzing in anyway though. She’s not even sure how he’s managed to get to her office seeing as it’s strictly employees only – he probably charmed whoever was working at the front desk to let him through, that would be a very Bellamy move. If only Murphy had been there again.</p>
<p>She’s in the middle of an extremely frustrating phone call with a prospective client when he knocks on the door and pops his head round it, stupid smile plastered on his face like he’s supposed to be there. He lets himself in, and makes himself comfortable in Murphy’s chair while she finishes up on the call. Clarke half hopes that Murphy will finish his meeting early, come back to the office and throw Bellamy out of his chair. Just her luck, he doesn’t, and Clarke has to finish her call and immediately deal with Bellamy.</p>
<p>“That didn’t sound like a fun call.” He unhelpfully states as she hangs up the phone.</p>
<p>“It wasn’t,” She mumbles in response, taking a deep breath to attempt to calm her already fraying nerves and running hand through her hair before she turns to face him, “What are you doing here, Bellamy?”</p>
<p>“I’m here to take you to lunch.” He speaks like its obvious. That annoys her.</p>
<p>“I’m not going to lunch with you.” She turns away from him and tries to busy herself with some of the papers lying on her desk in front of her.</p>
<p>“Why not?” He sounds like a hurt little kid. Good. He’s asking stupid questions so he deserves it.</p>
<p>“Because,” She hisses, still staring at the paper in front of her and not at Bellamy, “like I’ve already said, I don’t want to be anywhere near you.”</p>
<p>“Look, Clarke,” Bellamy’s voice takes on a more serious tone. She can tell he isn’t smiling anymore, “I know I fucked up, but I really am trying to make it up to you. I can’t do that if you refuse to talk to me.”</p>
<p>Where does he get off, thinking that she owes him something?</p>
<p>“I don’t want you to make it up to me!” She spits out (definitely louder than she’d intended to), flinging the paperwork back down on to her desk and spinning her chair round so that she can glare at him “What about that don’t you understand?”</p>
<p>Bellamy doesn’t seem at all perturbed by the anger flaring up in her eyes, or perhaps he’s just stupid. Whichever one it is, he keeps talking, “The friendship we have is so special Clarke, you can’t expect me to just accept it’s over without even trying.”</p>
<p>“Well, you know what, I do.” Clarke can feel herself rapidly losing her temper, she’s too tired for this, “You’re right, what we had <i>was<i> special. I relied on you, so much more than I realised I did and it took me not having you there to lean on to realise that I was too reliant on you. I was a <i>mess<i> without you Bell, and maybe that’s partly my fault for putting too much faith in you but I had to work so hard to get myself back to some semblance of normal, and I can’t let myself go back to needing you for everything and anything; I won’t.” She can feel the tears threatening to fall again. She hates it.</i></i></i></i></p>
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<p>“Clarke. I can promise you that I will never, ever let you down like that again,” He sounds earnest, but he can’t promise that, not anymore, “We’re good together, Clarke, think about the other night-“</p>
<p>“The other night was a mistake.” Clarke almost yells out. She takes a deep, shuddering breath. She doesn’t want to completely lose it at work, but she’s getting close, “I could hardly function without you to help me with the things that were going on in my life, and that isn’t necessarily your fault, but you promised me that you would always be there for me, no matter what – and I held you to that even though I clearly shouldn’t have. I completely shut down when I finally realised I’d missed visiting my dad; Wells and Murphy literally took turns babysitting me because I couldn’t look after myself - you were such a big part of my life that I had no clue how to deal with my shit without you there to help me. I <i>loved<i> you, Bellamy. I probably still do, but this time I’m the one who needs <i>time<i> to work out if I can have you in my life without being <i>too<i> attached to you. I fell apart without you and I can’t let that happen to me again, I can’t trust <i>you<i> not to let that happen again. If you have any respect for me, Bellamy, you’ll leave here, and leave me alone and not try to talk to me or see me unless I try and contact you first. I’m not saying I definitely won’t, but right now I need time to think without you hovering over me trying to <i>fix<i> things.”</i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></i></p>
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<p>She’s definitely crying again. Shit. Two points to Clarke’s emotions and none to her pride. </p>
<p>Bellamy, for possibly the first time ever, actually seems speechless. He looks sad again – actually, he looks devastated. It doesn’t feel good this time. It just hurts. Her chest is aching and her stomach feels tight. She just wants him to leave.</p>
<p>She opens her mouth to tell him to go, but no sound comes out. She just shakes her head at him. She needs him gone.</p>
<p>Bellamy looks at her for a moment longer, clearly desperate to do <i>something<i>, but there’s nothing that will make a difference, not now. He knows this.</i></i></p>
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    <i>Finally, he just nods. A small movement of his head, telling her that he does understand. Then he walks away, and she’s on her own again.</i>
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    <i>She knows that it was what she wanted, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.</i>
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  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for the feedback guys!! It never fails to put a smile on my face.</p><p>Originally there was only going to be 2 chapters, but I wanted to keep them similar lengths so in the end that meant splitting this last one in to two. The good news is that the next chapter is half written and fully planned out so shouldn't be too long (but also, don't like hold me to that, because I'm me)</p><p>I hope you like this chapter, I've named it 'Everyone's Drinking and Apologising'</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bellamy kept his distance after the day at the gallery, and life for Clarke finally began to take on a new sense of normal. Her mom was settled in rehab, and they shared a weekly phone call for half an hour every Thursday evening. When speaking to her mother, Clarke could tell she was trying and she was definitely saying all the right things. However, she’d said those same things countless times before, but despite that Clarke would always have faith that this would be the time that they would stick.</p><p>Clarke herself definitely isn’t a hundred percent better, but she’s getting somewhere vaguely close to it. There’s still a painful pang in her chest when she thinks of Bellamy and she still misses Raven and Monty and Jasper and Harper and Miller and Jackson and all of her old group of friends but she’s beginning to move on. It wasn’t easy. She had blocked Bellamy’s number, not because she necessarily thought that he’d try and contact her again, but because she wanted to eliminate the temptation of her messaging him until she was ready. She had also unfollowed all of her old friends on social media, because whenever she opened it up to see a picture of Bellamy it hurt. She didn’t blame the others for cutting off contact with her; they’d all been Raven’s friends first, she didn’t expect any of them to go against her when she’d done nothing wrong. If there was any positive to the situation it was that all traces of Finn seemed to be gone from Raven’s pages – at least he hadn’t come out of this unscathed. She did sometimes want to reach out to Raven, to explain and apologise again and perhaps try to get her to understand but the fear of having that thrown back in her face was still too much right now. Maybe one day, though. </p><p>It wasn’t like she had nobody. Murphy had introduced her to his girlfriend, Emori (which had been a bit of surprise because she had no clue that he was dating anyone, let alone that he’d been in a relationship for the entire time that she’d known him and the five years beforehand). From there she had been semi-integrated into their friend group. They were a nice enough collection of people, although they could be slightly intense and admittedly sometimes terrifying, (especially Roan and Echo and their passionate conversations about conspiracies and secret government spy operations), but she liked them all well enough. They weren’t the same as her old friends though and she’d still need a bit more time before she began to trust new people on the same level that she had in the past. Anyway, Wells and Murphy were still very much there whenever she needed them, and that was more than enough for her right now. </p><p>Clarke was going out with them tonight, actually, as well as Emori, Echo, Roan and Niylah (who Clarke definitely would have hooked up with by now if the memories of the disastrous end of her last friend/fuck buddy weren’t still so fresh). She was more than ready for a night out, and had already informed Wells of her plans to get absolutely wasted – she deserved it.  By the time they made it to the bar, everyone else was already there and sat in a booth in the corner.</p><p>“Nice of you to show your face, Griffin.” Murphy greeted dramatically, lifting up his wrist as if he was looking at a watch and shaking his head.</p><p>“Sorry guys, Wells here,” She claps a hand on to her friends back, “struggles very much to be on time.”</p><p>Wells scoffs at her, “Or, more accurately, this one had been distracted by a bottle of wine while she was getting ready and was not at all ready to leave when I got there.”</p><p>Clarke rolls her eyes as she slides into the booth, but doesn’t argue. He isn’t necessarily wrong. The evening passes nicely, there’s lots of laughing and joking and at one-point Murphy starts reciting poetry (she doesn’t ask why). She’s halfway to drunk when the evening swiftly takes a dramatic turn. Specifically, she’s about to finish off a perfectly crafted knock knock joke that is sure to have the table in hysterics when her eyes lock on to the group of people just sitting down at a table across the bar.</p><p>She immediately loses her train of thought, and the only words that make it out of her mouth are, “Oh, shit.”</p><p>Her friends in the booth look rightly confused. ‘Oh shit’ was not the punchline to the joke. Her life, on the other hand, does appear to be.</p><p>“My biggest fans have just entered the building.” Clarke groans, reaching out a hand to grab a shot sitting on the tray in the middle of the table. Followed by another one straight after.</p><p>They’re all there. Raven, Monty, Harper, Jasper, Maya, Miller, Jackson, and of course, Bellamy. They’re all laughing and joking and smiling and having a great time. It wasn’t like she didn’t that her absence from the group wouldn’t have really changed anything – they all knew each other long before she met Bellamy – but it still hurts to see it. At least they haven’t seen her yet. </p><p>Wells sees them and reaches out to squeeze her hand in the comforting way he always does. Murphy, as always, is a lot less subtle, clambering up and craning his neck round until his eyes lock on them. Emori, thankfully, tugs him back down into his seat before they see him.</p><p>“Assholes,” he mutters, narrowing his eyes at Clarke, who’s currently lining up all possible exits from the bar “Why are you looking around like that?”</p><p>“I’m looking for my escape route. Hopefully I can get out of here before they see me,” Clarke responds, “Does anyone know if you can get out through the smoking area?”</p><p>“Oh no, don’t even try it Griffin,” Murphy commanded, shooting her a withering glare, “You were here first, if they don’t like it, they can leave.”</p><p>Before Clarke can work out how to respond, Niylah pipes up, “I’m assuming that these are the ex-friends that fucked Clarke over, right?”</p><p>“They are,” Clarke speaks slowly, “Did I tell you about them and somehow completely block the conversation out?”</p><p>“No, Murphy told us,” Echo answers, staring intently at said ex-friends, “I could definitely take any of them if they try and start something, don’t worry.”</p><p>Clarke has no doubt about the truth of that statement. From the little she’s gathered about Echo over the times that they’ve hung out recently, she does know that she’s highly skilled in a large number of martial arts. She chooses to gloss over that for now, though, instead shooting an accusing look at Murphy.</p><p>He holds his hands up but does not look sorry, “We’re a very stable group of friends, Griffin. I had to give a good reason for introducing anyone that could change the dynamic, which meant telling your sob story. You should count yourself lucky that you got in, not everybody does.”</p><p>Wells snorts. Clarke still glares. The table is silent for a moment until she speaks dryly, “Thanks, I guess.”</p><p>“Anyway,” this time it’s Roan speaking, “From what we’ve been told, you didn’t do anything wrong. If anyone should have a problem with anyone, you should be pissed at them.”</p><p>Clarke considers his words for a moment, “I <i>did<i> ruin Raven’s relationship. She’d been with Finn for six or seven years, you know? They’d all been friends with him a lot longer than they’ve known me.”</i></i></p><p>
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    <i>“Clarke!” Wells admonishes, nudging her in the ribs with his elbow “How many times have we been through this. You did not ruin Raven’s relationship, Finn did. You’re just the unlucky person he decided to ruin it with. You are not leaving this bar because of them; you can still have a good night.”</i>
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    <i>“Fine, but I am not leaving this booth,” Clarke concedes, lifting her half full glass to her mouth and downing its contents, “Who’s round is it? I need more alcohol to get through this.”</i>
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    <i>The not leaving the booth plan works perfectly for a couple of hours. She and Wells swap places with Murphy and Emori so that Bellamy, Raven and co are not in her eyeline, and the more alcohol she drinks the easier it is to focus on what’s happening in the booth rather than what’s happening across the bar. The plan falls apart once the urge to go to the toilet becomes too strong to resist, though. To get to the toilets she needs to walk past the table where the others are, where <i>Bellamy<i> is. The more she thinks about it the more aware she becomes that she’s in the same place as him for the first time in weeks and she doesn’t know what she’s supposed to be <i>feeling<i>. The alcohol isn’t helping with that, but the most pressing matter currently is definitely the fullness of her bladder.</i></i></i></i></i>
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            <i>Clarke debates her options before landing on the perfect plan, “Roan!” She exclaims, “You’re a big human!”</i>
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            <i>The table falls silent, and Clarke realises she may have interrupted some kind of conversation. Oh well. Roan himself is looking at her with amusement obvious in his eyes.</i>
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            <i>He raises an eyebrow, as if he’s asking a question, but only says, “That is correct.”</i>
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            <i>“I need your help. Come on.” Clarke begins scrambling over Wells to get out the booth. He very wisely just stands up and moves all drinks away from the edge of the table.</i>
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            <i>“What on earth are you talking about, blondie.” Roan questions, but he is also making his own way out of the booth while he speaks.</i>
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            <i>“I need to go to the bathroom but I don’t want the others to see me so you’re going to come with me and hide me. Like a human shield.” Clarke explains. She isn’t quite sure why the table bursts into laughter.</i>
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            <i>“I’m not too sure that plans going to work.” Roan snorts</i>
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            <i>“Well we need to try.” She implores, “Also, if they do see me you can scare them into staying away – that angry intense look thing you do should work.”</i>
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            <i>“Fine,” Roan acquiesces, “Wish us luck.”</i>
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            <i>The next most pressing issue is that walking is definitely harder than she thought it was going to be. It isn’t her fault that she’s been sitting down and drinking whatever is put in front of her for the last few hours – so therefore it isn’t her fault that walking in a straight line isn’t quite in her capability right now.</i>
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            <i>“You sure you don’t need me to carry you to the toilet, blondie?” Roan raises an eyebrow as she takes a step and immediately reaches an arm out to steady herself on the closest stable object, which happens to be him. She can keep walking afterwards though, she’s fine.</i>
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            <i>Clarke rolls her eyes, “Stop calling me blondie.”</i>
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            <i>“Why? It’s accurate.”</i>
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            <i>“It’s annoying.” She shoots back</i>
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            <i>“Well it’s a good thing for both of us that I don’t live to please you then.” Roan’s funny. She likes him.</i>
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            <i>“You’re a dick.” Clarke tells him.</i>
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            <i>“I don’t want to ruin your night but I think we’ve already been spotted.” Roan reports, flicking his head in the vague direction of the table as if she wouldn’t already know who he was talking about.</i>
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            <i>“Who’s looking at us?” Clarke questions, making a very conscious effort not to look.</i>
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            <i>“Everyone. There’s one boy in particular who looks very put out. Curly hair. Big but not as big as me.” Roan helpfully informs her. Bellamy. She likes that he looks put out, and she knows how to put him out even more.</i>
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            <i>“Put your arm around me.” Clarke orders Roan.</i>
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            <i>“What?”</i>
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            <i>“Put your arm around me. Whisper in my ear. If he’s already looking then we might as well give him something to look at.” Clarke explains, a smirk forming on her lips.</i>
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            <i>Roan laughs, but he does as she says and wraps her underneath his arm – leaning in close to her, “You really want to make him suffer, don’t you?”</i>
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            <i>She giggles, looking up at him and making a point not to look at her old friends as they pass the table, “I really do,” she leans in and kisses him on the cheek, “And I also really need to pee, thanks for the help, babe.”</i>
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            <i>Roan just laughs again, whilst Clarke is now entirely focused on getting into the closest toilet cubicle. She does. Weeing feels really, really good. Whilst she sits on the toilet, she’s hyping herself up to walk straight past the hell table and back to the booth. When she opens the cubicle door, however, she ends up face to face with Raven, and all her self-hype immediately dissipates.</i>
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            <i>She freezes, unable to read the flat expression on Raven’s face. She’s standing directly in front of the cubicle door, so Clarke has no means of escape, all she can do is stand and wait for what’s about to be coming her way.</i>
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            <i>“I think we should talk.” Raven finally speaks. </i>
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            <i>“Yeah,” Clarke agrees cautiously, suddenly feeling a lot more sober “Could I wash my hands first though?” She tries to joke and it falls flat.</i>
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            <i>Raven looks confused for a moment, until she realises that she’s blocking Clarke’s route to the sink.</i>
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        <i>
          <i>
            <i>“Oh, shit yeah, sorry.” Raven mumbles, stepping to the side so Clarke can get to the sink. She washes her hands in silence. The quiet is stifling and awkward and Clarke hates it because they’re so far away from where they used to be and it’s not fair.</i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>“I – I need to apologise.”</i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>Well, Clarke definitely wasn’t expecting that. Raven keeps talking.</i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>“The way I treated you, when I found out, it wasn’t fair. I didn’t try and ask for your side of the story; I just knew what Bellamy and Finn told me and I attacked you and that wasn’t okay. I – I’m not trying to make excuses but you know how much Finn had been there for me – everything we went through when we were younger and I just couldn’t let myself think that he’d throw that all away. I think I knew, deep down, though, and the way he acted after just confirmed it – he was so insistent that I and none of our friends spoke to you, that we just cut you out completely – that you were a liar. I’m sorry we listened to him for so long.”</i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>Clarke’s mind is racing. She had hardly hoped to ever hear those words come out from Raven’s mouth; she honestly still wasn’t completely convinced that she deserved them. They were hard to process, partly because they were a lot and partly because of the alcohol fogging her brain.</i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>“Why did you stop?” Clarke queries, “Listening to him.”</i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>Raven takes a deep breath. It’s strange to see her so obviously unsure of herself - nothing like how she usually is. “Like I said, I knew Finn had been acting strangely. Then Bellamy told me what you’d said, about just how drunk you really were and Finn taking advantage and I don’t know, I knew it was true. I wish I’d realised it earlier, that I hadn’t been such a bitch.”</i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>“It’s okay – I didn’t exactly try to explain everything to you.”</i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>“It’s really not okay, Clarke. You don’t have to say it is,” Raven sighs, “By the time I’d realised exactly how much of a mistake I’d made, whatever went down between you and Bellamy had gone down, and all he’d really say about it was that you wanted absolutely nothing to do with him – and, god this sounds <i>really<i> childish but I realised you’d unfollowed me on social media so I used that as an excuse not to try and reach out. The longer I waited the harder it got. I was being selfish and a coward, and I’m sorry.”</i></i></i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>Clarke is sure she’s too drunk for this conversation and she’s just so overwhelmed by the knowledge that Raven <i>doesn’t<i> hate her that she has no clue how to respond so she does what she seems to be doing a hell of a lot lately – cries. Raven’s been looking at her the entire time she was speaking, an unusually open expression on her face, but that drops off into panic as soon as she sees the tears well up in Clarke’s eyes. “Oh shit, no, I’m sorry, please don’t cry. Should I go and get someone-“</i></i></i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>“No!” Clarke cuts her off, reaching an arm out to grab Raven’s arm, “Raven, I’m fine, I just – I missed you.”</i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>“Oh.” The panic drops off Raven’s face, instead being replaced with a small smile, “I missed you too.”</i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>“I’m sorry I’m crying,” Clarke sniffles, wiping away the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand, “I’m drunk.”</i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>Raven looks her up and down with an amused smile on her face, “That you are, Clarke,” she laughs, “Can we hug it out now and forget any of this ever happened?”</i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>Clarke nods, letting Raven envelop her in her arms. The hug doesn’t last too long, mainly because the door to the bathroom swings open and they remember that they are taking up an unreasonable amount of space in an already cramped bar bathroom.</i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>“We should probably head back out.” Clarke suggests, wiping away any stray tears from her cheeks and spending a quick moment fixing the smudged make up beneath her eyes.</i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>Raven agrees, also touching up her lipstick in front of the mirror, “Also,” she smirks at their reflections, “Who was that hunk of a man you walked to the bathroom with? A new conquest?”</i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>Clarke snorts, “Oh no. That’s just Roan. Nothing fun going on there.”</i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>“Well, in that case, he could be the perfect person to get under to get over Finn.” Raven announces.</i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>Clarke laughs, “Go ahead, as far as I know he isn’t attached to anyone.”</i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>Clarke isn’t sure what she’s expecting to happen when she leaves the bathroom hand in hand with Raven, but it certainly isn’t for there to be a large collection of the people they had come to this bar with staring at the door they just emerged from. The group she came with have apparently migrated to a table closer to the toilets, and by design closer to Raven’s group. There are multiple dirty looks being sent over to the other table by Niylah and Echo, and whilst they’re no longer necessary, the loyalty being shown by the people she hasn’t known for too long means a lot. Wells is standing in a huddle with Jasper and Monty, all three of them visibly relaxing once the two of them emerged from the bathroom. </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>“What serious discussions are happening here?” Raven questions as they walk towards the group, raising an eyebrow at the boys.</i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>“We were debating whether we needed to send someone in to interrupt the catfight ensuing in the bathroom,” Monty informs them, glancing down to where their hands are joined, “But by the looks of things you’ve talked everything through?”</i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>Monty’s voice is hopeful, and the same expression is obvious on Jasper’s face. The two are always in sync.</i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>“Yeah, all talked through and sorted out.” Clarke responds with a smile, yelping as Jasper wraps her in a sudden but not unwelcome hug.</i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>Clarke takes a quick glance around at the occupants of the bar when Jasper releases her, noting two major absences.</i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>“Where’s Murphy?” She questions, watching as an expression takes over Wells’ face that looks somewhat like concern, “And Bellamy?”</i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>“Well, Murphy headed outside for a smoke when we moved table,” Well’s explains, “And Bellamy followed him out.”</i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>Murphy and Bellamy were never a good combination. “Those two are alone together and you thought that you needed to keep an eye on me and Raven fighting? Chances are a double homicide has already occurred right outside those doors.” Clarke snorts. She tries not to think about it too much, but she can’t help but wonder why Bellamy would have followed Murphy. She didn’t want to sound like she thought everything was about her, but surely this <i>had<i> to be about her – there was nothing else linking the two of them apart from a mutual dislike for each other.</i></i></i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>Thankfully they aren’t out there for too much longer. Bellamy comes back first, which is when Clarke heads back to the table – she might be more than happy to know that she isn’t universally hated by everyone she loves, but she’s still not ready to talk to Bellamy. She’s going to have to be around him soon, though. Jasper made her promise she’d be at their next game night. Murphy’s at the table a few minutes later, sitting in the empty chair between Clarke and Emori. She waits for him to bring up whatever happened outside with Bellamy, but he doesn’t at first.</i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>“So, what did I miss? I see Clarke is alive and smiling so there clearly weren’t any disasters in the bathroom.” Murphy comments.</i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>Clarke nods, “Raven apologised. Apparently, they don’t all hate me. I’m invited to the next game night.”</i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>Murphy snorts, muttering “Just like that.” It’s obvious he isn’t happy about something, but Clarke’s actually in a good mood so she ignores it for now. Clarke waits for him to bring up Bellamy, and she thinks he might be waiting for her to ask, but finally he speaks. </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>“Looks like we both had interesting conversations today.”</i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>“What happened?” She tries to act nonchalant, but she doesn’t think anyone buys it.</i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>“He thanked me.” Murphy says the words like they’re disgusting, turning his nose up like there’s a bad smell. </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>“Thanked you?” Clarke queries. The whole concept of Bellamy thanking Murphy for anything seems completely unbelievable – Clarke’s not sure she could even picture it.</i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>Murphy makes a noise of confirmation before explaining in more detail, “For looking after you after ‘everything that happened’,” he rolls his eyes, “He said something along the lines of you deserving good friends that will treat you properly. Looked like he was about to throw up when he was saying it, mind you.”</i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>“And what did you say?”</i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>“I told him he was right. You do deserve better than people that treated you like shit.”</i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>After hearing that, Clarke can’t stop herself twisting her head to take a look at what Bellamy’s doing. Her eyes land on him.</i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>He’s looking at her.</i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>-</i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>Clarke is on her way to game night (which is really just an excuse to try and make every game out there a drinking one), and she is panicking. Logically, she knows that there’s no real reason to be worried. It’s been a few weeks since the night at the bar, and since then she’s been added back into the group chats and she’s been on coffee dates with Raven and been shopping with Harper and had dinner with Jackson and Miller but this is going to be the first time she’s with <i>everyone<i>. She had been out of their lives for months – there were going to be new inside jokes and funny stories and stupid moments that she had no idea about and however much effort everybody put in it wouldn’t change the fact that she’d feel like an outsider. So, she’s bringing Murphy for moral support.</i></i></i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>Also, Bellamy. She’s definitely panicking about being in the same general space as Bellamy. She thinks it’ll be okay as long as she never has to be alone with him or really interact with him. It was Murphy’s job to be the buffer, and she knew he would take it seriously.</i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>
          <i>
            <i>
              <i>
                <i>
                  <i>
                    <i>
                      <i>
                        <i>
                          <i>
                            <i>Murphy himself had been grumpier than usual the past couple of weeks. He thought Clarke had forgiven everyone too easily. That wasn’t right though, because she hadn’t needed to forgive anyone in the first place. Yes, it sucked that every single one of them had cut her off without even attempting to talk to her or get her side of the story and it <i>had<i> hurt just how quickly and easily she had been removed from all their lives without so much as a second thought, but it wasn’t like they’d really done anything that warranted forgiveness. All they’d done was support one of their oldest friends. She couldn’t <i>really<i> blame them for that. Murphy definitely did though. That was another reason she’d invited him – so that he could see that everything was okay and he didn’t need to worry anymore.</i></i></i></i></i>
                          </i>
                        </i>
                      </i>
                    </i>
                  </i>
                </i>
              </i>
            </i>
          </i>
        </i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
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                                    <i>She and Murphy were the last to arrive. An intentional choice, so that everyone else was already drinking and there would be less chance of awkward sober small talk before the games actually started. It worked. A game was already set up and waiting by the time they arrived, all they had to do was slip into the edge of the group and start playing. Clarke did her best not to look at Bellamy.</i>
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                                    <i>The night quickly devolved, as often they do when alcohol is involved. A few hours later she’s nicely buzzed, as she suspects everyone else in the house is, and they’re all sitting down to start a game of never have I ever like they’re teenagers and not the adults with lives and jobs that they are. The game starts off quite tame, but soon descends into chaos – everyone apparently competing with each other to catch people out with the most debauched acts they can think of; just a normal game. </i>
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                                    <i>Until it’s Murphy’s go, of course.</i>
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                                    <i>“I’ve got one,” he pipes up, sounding a lot more devious than he should do, “Never have I ever completely cut off my friend after some creep took advantage of her and then not even apologised after I finally accepted the truth and just expected everything to go back to normal!”</i>
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                                    <i>The circle falls silent, tipsy laughter fading immediately. Clarke feels the blood rush to her face.</i>
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                                    <i>“Ignore him,” She stammers out, wishing the floor could swallow her whole, “He’s just being a dick.”</i>
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                                    <i>Murphy, however, does not want to let it go. “No, Clarke! Every person in this room, apart from me, was awful to you but are acting like nothing happened. Okay, Raven apologised, and at least Blake is being smart for once in his life and keeping his distance, but the rest of you?” He shoots an accusing glare around the room. </i>
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                                    <i>“Stop it, Murphy.” Clarke demands. Why did he have to do that? They were having such a nice night. She keeps her eyes trained on the ground. She can’t meet anyone’s eyes in this room. She might cry.</i>
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                                    <i>“No, he’s right.” Harper admits, voice clear, “We all owe you an apology. What we did wasn’t right, and it wasn’t okay. You don’t need to pretend you’re not angry at us.”</i>
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                                    <i>“But I’m not,” Clarke insists, ripping her gaze up from the ground to try and show Harper how sincere she’s being, “I promise. <i>I<i> didn’t reach out and try to explain anything to any of you. It’s not your fault. I could have done more.”</i></i></i>
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                                        <i>Clarke feels Murphy bristle beside her. He hates when she talks like that – says she’s making excuses for other people’s behaviour and putting unnecessary blame on herself. She’s expecting to hear his voice next, or perhaps Monty or Miller who both look like they’re ready to speak. It’s none of those people, though. It’s Bellamy – the first time he’s directed <i>anything<i> to her since the day in the gallery.</i></i></i>
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                                            <i>“Don’t do that, Clarke,” hearing him say her name causes her breath to catch in her throat. She doesn’t look at him, “We both know that there are other reasons you didn’t reach out, more immediate problems you had to deal with, none of which were your fault. Don’t blame yourself for any of this.”</i>
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                                            <i>The room is silent again. The lack of any kind of interaction between Bellamy and Clarke tonight had been an obvious elephant in the room, and it was one that no one was going to bring up. Clarke still doesn’t look at him, she can’t look at him. She doesn’t quite know what she’ll feel if she does and she refuses to even risk ending up mid-breakdown here. </i>
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                                            <i>Clarke inhales a shaky breath. “Look, I promise that I’m not angry at anyone. I won’t lie, hearing an apology was nice, but it wasn’t necessary. I just want to move on, to try and get things as close to how they used to be as possible. I’ve missed you guys, and I don’t want any of you feeling any guilt over what happened. It was none of our faults, it was Finn’s and that’s the last I want to hear about it,” She pauses, waiting for any interruptions, but thankfully there are none. She turns to Murphy, “And if you ever try to pull some shit like that again, I am going to break into your house and destroy whatever puzzle you’re currently working on. Yeah, Emori told me about that little hobby.”</i>
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                                            <i>That earns some laughs from around the circle, and the palpable tension is eased greatly. </i>
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                                            <i>“I’ll have you know that the ability to complete puzzles is an extremely useful skill to have in life.” Murphy drawls, before launching into a list of every single reason that puzzles or vaguely good.</i>
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                                            <i>Just like that, the nights back to normal, for everyone else at least. All Clarke can think about is Bellamy – the sound of her name falling from his lips still playing on repeat in her brain. She’s missed hearing his voice. She’s missed <i>him<i>.</i></i></i>
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                                                <i>Finally, she lets herself look at him.</i>
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                                                <i>Once again, his eyes are already trained on her. </i>
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                                                <i>Clarke allows herself to make eye contact with him for a moment. She has a feeling that the hurt and regret she can see in his eyes is matched within her own. Clarke wants to keep looking at him just as much as she wants to tear her eyes away. She isn’t sure if she’s breathing.</i>
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                                                <i>It doesn’t matter anyway. Bellamy breaks first, swallowing and cutting off eye contact before making a hurried excuse to leave the room.</i>
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                                                <i>Clarke thinks her heart breaks all over again.</i>
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                                                <i>Spending time in the same places as Bellamy was going to be a lot harder than she’d first thought.</i>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much for reading xoxo you're all great</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Me? Lying about chapter counts yet again? Couldn't be.</p><p>Surprise!! This isn't the last chapter - there's gonna be another one which once again is already half written, but what can you do?</p><p>I apologise for the wait - my laptop decided to die on me and it took a couple of weeks to get it fixed. Twas not the best.</p><p>I'm actually blown away by how much you guys have been enjoying this story - thank you so much for all the comments and feedback - it honestly means so much to me to know that you all enjoy what I write!</p><p>I'll shut up now, and I hope you enjoy the chapter xoxo</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Avoiding any direct contact with Bellamy becomes as integral a part of Clarke’s life as breathing. She can deal with group dinners and game nights and evenings at the bar with her friends (and therefore Bellamy) with absolutely no problem - all she has to do is make sure that, under no circumstances, does she speak to said traitor, or make eye contact with him (or generally look at him at all, if she’s being honest). As long as she succeeds with that then the chances of her falling into a cycle of pain and existential dread are relatively small. She won’t say that there’s <em>no</em> chance, because sometimes even the mention of his name sends her running for the closest private place that she can burst into tears. It’s not always that bad – nowadays she’s <em>usually</em> fine. The worst times – for sure - are definitely when she’s just sitting alone at home and something pops up on her phone, or she’s watching something they used to watch together, and she gets reminded of him. Then, she ends up spending hours trying to work out why the fuck he let her down the way he did and why she can’t just be <em>over</em> it already. </p><p>It’s tiring, honestly - having to deal with her excessive and apparently uncontrollable emotions surrounding Bellamy. She’s getting it under control though, no matter what Murphy says. Well, he doesn’t necessarily <em>say</em> anything, it’s more of a dramatic eye-roll whenever Clarke attempts to assure him that she really is dealing with it– but Clarke gets the message that he does not believe her loud and clear.</p><p>Why Murphy doesn’t believe her – Clarke isn’t really sure. She supposes it could be something to do with the fact that he see’s her almost every day at work, and is therefore subject to her sometimes erratic moods on days that she knows she’ll be seeing him later on. Or, perhaps it’s because he is often the recipient of her drunken rants about how much she hates having to be in the same place as Bellamy. Okay, maybe Clarke <em>can</em> somewhat understand why Murphy isn’t convinced but that doesn’t <em>matter</em> - what matters is that she really is doing better.</p><p>Despite the fact that she’s been fully reintegrated back into her old friend group, Clarke is still very much keeping in contact with and spending time with Murphy’s friends – well, she guesses she should start classing them as her friends now too. They’re a lot more relaxed than Clarke is used to - a lot more likely to spend an evening in someone’s apartment smoking weed and ordering takeout then actually heading out to restaurants or bars – and it’s something Clarke really enjoys. As much as she does enjoy getting dressed up and going out, she equally enjoys being able to show up somewhere in a hoodie and sweatpants and just be able to chill for a while. If anything good has come out of the whole mess with the Finn incident (as she has officially dubbed it), it’s definitely her newfound friends.</p><p>The two groups are also strangely beginning to merge – and it isn’t actually down to Clarke. It turns out that Raven was not joking when she said Roan would be the perfect person to get with to get over Finn, and the two of them are currently embroiled in a relationship that they both maintain is purely physical. Clarke would be more inclined to believe that if Raven and Roan weren’t spending so much time together, although her viewpoint could be skewed by her disastrous experiences of purely benefit based relationships. To be fair, Raven insists that it’s too soon after Finn for her to look for anything serious, and it turns out that Roan has never been ready for anything serious in his life, so maybe things will work out just fine for them. Maybe it’s just Clarke that always has everything blow up in her face.</p><p>Anyway, the point is that everything’s actually going fine. Clarke’s content with where her life is – happy, even. Yes, she’d be happier if Bellamy wasn’t still a big issue for her, even months after everything went wrong, but all in all, everything is good.</p><p>Until it really, definitely isn’t.</p><p>-</p><p>Clarke isn’t sure how it’s happened, but somehow, despite all the effort she’s put into making sure that it doesn’t happen, she’s ended up alone with Bellamy. It’s a total accident. Everyone was in his apartment for games night when she’d received a phone call from Indra - the owner of the art gallery - asking for some information about a client that was kicking up a fuss. By the time Clarke had returned from the study that she’d slipped in to get some quiet – everyone was already gone or on their way out the door. Clarke would have thought that it was some kind of conspiracy Bellamy had planned to get the two of them alone if he didn’t look just as uncomfortable as she felt right now.</p><p>She used to spend half her time in this apartment having movie nights and Netflix marathons and just <em>existing</em> alongside her best friend - and now - now they’re standing in the hallway staring at each other in a horrifically awkward atmosphere with absolutely nothing to say to make it better. That doesn’t stop Bellamy from trying, though.</p><p>“How have you been doing?” He asks, voice soft and hopeful. It hasn’t escaped Clarke’s notice that this is the first time that they’ve been alone since that day in the gallery, but the sound of his voice is still so instinctively comforting. For a moment she thinks that she might be able to do this – might be able to actually have a conversation with him without falling to pieces.</p><p>“Better, a lot better actually,” Clarke responds with a half-smile, “You?”</p><p>“Yeah, I’ve been okay,” Bellamy replies, a similar smile to hers forming on his lips “I miss you, though.”</p><p>Oh. Clarke’s changed her mind. She should have just ordered an uber and left. Maybe she can’t do this.</p><p>“You see me pretty regularly.” Clarke forces a laugh, hoping that the conversation can somehow end here. That Bellamy will just say bye and count the few words as a win. He doesn’t.</p><p>“It’s not the same. It’s almost worse than when I didn’t see you at all. I can’t stand being in the same room as you and not being able to <em>talk</em> to you. I know what I did was wrong, and I know this is on me, but can’t you at least try to give me another chance? I’ve done everything you asked.” Bellamy pleads. He sounds sad and he’s not even attempting to hide the desperation in his voice. If Bellamy misses her half as much as Clarke misses Bellamy then she knows exactly how he’s feeling. It’s not that <em>simple</em> though.</p><p>“Bell,” Clarke’s voice cracks, as much as she’d love to forgive him it isn’t going to happen today, “I <em>can’t</em>. Sometimes I look at you and it’s okay, I feel fine, but other times I look at you and all I can think about is how you made me <em>feel</em> and I’m sent right back to square one and I can’t begin to think about us having some kind of relationship again when you can still fuck me up like that.”</p><p>“Maybe the fact that I make you feel all those things means that you <em>can</em>,” Bellamy appeals, running a hand through his curls and stepping towards her, “Have you thought that the fact that neither of us are happy proves that we <em>should</em> try again? It can be on your terms; you could make all the decisions, but surely it’s worth trying.”</p><p>Trying. Who is Bellamy to tell her to <em>try</em> when he did nothing of the sort after Finn? “You want us to try and be like we used to be?” Clarke snaps, closing the space between them even more and shooting him a scathing glare, “Before you shattered all of the trust and faith that I had in you? Fine. Tell me why you did it.”</p><p>“What?” Bellamy looks like she’s just shot his imaginary dog or something. He clearly hadn’t been expecting her anger even though she’d given him no signs that she wanted to speak to him.</p><p>Clarke doesn’t really care if he hadn’t meant to piss her off. He did, and now he can deal with it. Besides, it was a question she’d been dying to ask for quite a while now. “You heard me. Tell me why you left me when you knew that I needed you, and don’t try and give that shitty <em>time</em> excuse again.”</p><p>“I <em>can’t</em>.” Bellamy sighs.</p><p>“You can!” Clarke demands, “I want to hear <em>why</em> you did what you did, because honestly that’s still what keeps me up at night. I want to know what you were thinking when you decided to cut me off when I needed you most.”</p><p>Bellamy swallows, “There are <em>no</em> good reasons. At the time, what I was thinking made sense to me, and I thought I was doing the right thing but I know now how shitty and wrong I was and I wish I could take it back but I can’t. Me telling you isn’t going to help anything.”</p><p>“Tell me.” Clarke repeats, voice dangerously low. She’s about one more excuse away from really losing her temper. </p><p>Bellamy knows how serious she is. He’s looking at her – eyes wide and filled with panic and anguish. He swallows again, grimacing as he begins to speak. Clarke is sure that she’s going to like hearing what he says just as much as he likes saying it, “I – God I hate this. I was so fucking angry when you first told me, obviously at Finn, because of Raven, but I was so angry at you too and I couldn’t work out <em>why</em>. I thought it was because you weren’t planning on telling Raven straight away, that you wanted <em>me</em> to lie to her – to betray her - but then I realised that I felt like you betrayed <em>me</em>.”</p><p>“What the fuck are you talking about?” Clarke seethes, fists clenched at her sides and eyes almost narrowed into slits as she glowers at him.</p><p>“Exactly! I know how stupid I sound – believe me.” Bellamy huffs, although Clarke can tell his frustration is directed at himself rather than at her, “I was angry at you and Finn and then I was angry at myself because if I’d been awake, I could have picked up the fucking phone and none of this would have happened. Or maybe it would have, but it would have been me you kissed, not Finn.”</p><p>Clarke falters at his admission. “I- I don’t understand.”</p><p>“Neither did I. I was so fucking confused. Then I realised that I was jealous, and I know it doesn’t make sense because you clearly regretted everything about what had happened and that makes it worse but it just hit me and I panicked.” Bellamy explains, dejection growing in his voice the more he says.</p><p>Clarke can hardly comprehend the words coming out of his mouth. They don’t make <em>sense</em>, “So, you’re telling me that you ruined <em>everything</em> because you realised that you got jealous because someone kissed me when I was so drunk that I barely even remember it happening?” Of all the convoluted reasons Clarke had come up with for Bellamy’s actions in her head, this one had never even entered her mind.</p><p>“I know it’s stupid. Believe me, I know.” Bellamy sputters, reaching a hand out to Clarke’s shoulder which is quickly shrugged off, “I just – I didn’t even realise I had those feelings for you, not really, and then I was just confronted with them all at once and I didn’t know what to do.”</p><p>Clarke just looks at him, eyes wide and really fucking confused. He’s telling the truth – she knows him and she knows when he’s being honest – but this? How does realising you have feelings for someone translate into abandoning them when they need you? The answer is it fucking doesn’t – not for normal people anyway.</p><p> “You’re a fucking idiot.” Clarke growls.</p><p>“I am.” Bellamy agrees. At least he knows it.</p><p>“I’m going home.” Clarke shoves past him to where her bag is in the hallway.</p><p>Bellamy reaches out a hand to grab her arm again but he smartly thinks better of it, letting his arm drop to his side and instead, quite pathetically beseeches “Clarke, please.”</p><p>“Please what, Bellamy? Am I supposed to just fall into your arms after <em>that</em>?” Clarke cries out, taking her anger out on the front door as she flings it open.</p><p>“Be realistic,” Bellamy tries, “You wouldn’t have thanked me for saying anything. We agreed a long time ago that we were just going to be friends and all I could think about was losing you and I didn’t know what to do.”</p><p>“Well, looks like the jokes on you,” Clarke monotones, “You lost me anyway.”</p><p>Then she leaves</p><p>-</p><p>Clarke is well and truly pissed off. And distracted. She’s angry and she can’t focus and it’s all Bellamy’s fault. Who does he even think he is? The prick. How the fuck had him destroying all the trust she had in him stemmed from him having non-platonic feelings for her? She did not understand – not at all.</p><p>It was the only thing on her mind for the past three days – and she had spent all of them in an incredibly shitty mood. When Murphy had realised that something was up, he had tried to wheedle the information out of her, but once he accepted that she was not planning on talking about it, he wisely let her get on with her angry moping. </p><p>Now -on Friday night and alone in her apartment - Clarke is not happy and she's dealing with that in the best way she knows how to (otherwise known as drinking wine and wallowing). All her mind keeps circling back to is what would have happened if Bellamy hadn’t been such an idiot and just told her what he’d been feeling. Admittedly, she isn’t completely sure how she would have reacted, but that’s not really the point. What <em>is</em> the point is that whatever it is she may have done; it would have surely resulted in her and Bellamy being in some kind of better place than they are now – whatever that place may have been.</p><p>For all Clarke knew, she and Bellamy could have spent the last couple of months dating. They could have been putting all of their energy into having really good sex instead of putting all their energy into avoiding each other. It would have been such good sex as well. For fucks sake. Now she’s thinking about sex with Bellamy. Wine always does this to her.</p><p>In fact, she hasn’t had sex with anyone <em>since</em> Bellamy. It’s been months – and it’s his fault. It’s not like she hasn’t had much longer dry spells before, but the knowledge that this didn’t <em>have</em> to be a dry spell is really grating on her. Bellamy’s even managed to ruin her sex life. Twat.</p><p>Actually, if Bellamy is the one who ruined it in the first place, then surely it’s also his job to fix it. Hell, their entire relationship started with disliking each other and fucking, why should there be any reason that they can’t do that now? It can be a full circle moment, or whatever. Yeah – it’s the perfect plan. Bellamy wants to make things up to her and is apparently in love with her or something – she wants sex – she knows he’ll give it to her good. Clarke can see absolutely no flaws in this plan.</p><p>She’s so sure that there will be no issues that she puts on some pretty underwear and a cute dress, orders an uber and turns up on his doorstep without even attempting to let him know that she’s coming (his number is still blocked, anyway). Going by the expression on his face, Bellamy definitely isn’t expecting to see her when he opens the door (not that he should be, considering she’s been avoiding him for months, but still). He’s shirtless, just in a pair of grey sweatpants and <em>shit</em> does he look good.</p><p>Clarke steps into the apartment and shuts the door behind her, not waiting for him to invite her inside.</p><p>The shock is still obvious on Bellamy’s face as he attempts to stutter out a greeting, “I – Clarke. Hi. What are you –“</p><p>She’s already tired of him talking, so she just lifts herself onto her tiptoes, wraps her arms loosely around his neck, and kisses him. That gets the message across (and also very effectively shuts him up). He kisses her back immediately, arms moving from his side to her waist as he pushes her up against the wall – just rough enough to knock an involuntary whimper from her lips. Bellamy is definitely the best kisser Clarke has ever kissed – just enough pressure and tongue and give and take – she could make out with him for hours, but that isn’t the plan for today.</p><p>Bellamy pulls away, which also wasn’t part of the plan. “Clarke, why are you here?”</p><p>She had hoped that would be obvious, but oh well. She’ll explain if he really needs her to. “I’m here so that we can have sex.”</p><p>Bellamy takes his lower lip between his teeth and looks her up and down, “Are you drunk? I can taste the wine.”</p><p>Clarke rolls her eyes, “I only had a couple of glasses. I’m not drunk. Now I want you to fuck me.” She pushes off the wall and turns towards his bedroom, hoping it will get things going. Bellamy follows her like a little duckling – it would be kind of cute if she wasn’t so fucking wound up.</p><p>“Are you sure, Clarke?” Bellamy’s still asking questions and Clarke does not want to hear them.</p><p>“Why are you fighting me on this?” Clarke narrows her eyes at him, “I thought it was what you wanted.”</p><p>“It is,” He assures her, voice suddenly softer than she was expecting “You know it is, but why now?”</p><p>“Because I’m horny and I want to have sex.” Clarke exclaims, exasperated. Her words clearly aren’t getting across to him, but maybe her actions will. She steps away from Bellamy – and towards his bed - and pulls her dress off. She’s just standing in her bra and panties, and she likes the way Bellamy looks her up and down and she can see his throat move as he swallows. He definitely wants her.</p><p>“So that’s all this is? Just sex?” He’s still talking. She’s standing in front of him in her underwear and instead of having her halfway to an orgasm he still isn’t touching her.</p><p>Clarke’s a little bit more than frustrated.</p><p>“Yeah, what else would it be?” </p><p>Bellamy finally doesn’t respond, and Clarke takes it as an opportunity to get back to business. She dips her fingers into the waistband of his joggers and guides him towards the bed until the back of her knees hit the mattress, at which point she lowers herself onto her back and lets him crawl on top of her. <em>Finally</em>, they’re kissing again.</p><p>She anchors her arms around his neck again, letting a hand run through his hair as his own hands snake down her sides. One of his legs finds its way between her legs and Clarke grinds down gratefully, finally getting some friction where she’s been wanting it since she walked in the door. She can’t prevent the whine making its way up her throat as Bellamy slips a hand beneath the fabric of her bra and rolls a nipple between his fingers.</p><p>He pulls his lips away from hers and moves them down her neck, which is acceptable. What isn’t so acceptable is that he starts fucking speaking again in between kisses, “Fuck, so gorgeous, baby.” His voice is strained, and any other time Clarke definitely would have found it hot but right now she just wants to fuck him, she doesn’t want to hear his voice.</p><p>“Stop talking and get on with it.” She chokes out. Bellamy is generally the one who gives orders in the bedroom but Clarke figures she can have her turn once in a while.</p><p>Bellamy lets out a breathy laugh against her neck and looks up at her. He’s smiling when they make eye contact, and she expects him to keep kissing his way down her body, but he <em>doesn’t</em>. Instead, the smile drops off of his face and he rolls off of her.</p><p>Clarke can’t quite believe what’s happening as she watches Bellamy stand up and step away from the bed. She follows him up, giving him her best <em>‘What The Actual Fuck’</em> glare.</p><p>“I can’t,” Is all he is in response to it, hand tugging through his curls where hers had been only moments before, “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Why not?” Clarke huffs – her tone a mix between a whinge and an accusation.</p><p>“Because you haven’t forgiven me!” Bellamy cries out in response, surprising both of them with the force behind the words. He takes a calming breath before continuing, this time in a smaller, more despairing voice, “You’re still looking at me like I ripped your heart out of your chest and crushed it.”</p><p>“Maybe because that’s what you did!” Clarke bites back, not really thinking about the words until they’re already out of her mouth.</p><p>She isn’t sure if she wants to shout or cry or curse – all she knows is that she’s standing opposite Bellamy and he looks just as broken as she feels.</p><p>Maybe coming here <em>wasn’t</em> such a great idea.</p><p>They’re silent for a few moments, the only sounds in the room coming from their heaving breaths.</p><p>“I know,” Bellamy finally speaks, voice quiet and filled with regret, “I know I did, and I’m sorry.”</p><p>“I thought you wanted this, wanted me.” Clarke hadn’t meant to sound so <em>whiny</em>, but the words came out like that anyway.</p><p>“I <em>do</em>, Clarke. I want you so badly it <em>hurts</em> whenever I see you or think about you, but not like this. Not when you still hate me – not when you look at me and I can <em>see</em> how much I still fuck you up.” Bellamy’s voice shakes slightly as he speaks. If it was anyone else Clarke might be scared by the vulnerability and what it <em>means</em>, but this is Bellamy, and Clarke already knows exactly what it means.</p><p>She isn’t quite sure what’s going to come out of her mouth when she opens it, she just knows that she needs to <em>talk</em>. Not to explain, necessarily, but just to speak her mind – her truth, perhaps. Clarke looks at Bellamy’s face – his flushed cheeks and mussed hair and sad eyes – and begins to speak. She’s almost surprised that her own voice doesn’t shake.</p><p>“When you said that you didn’t want to speak to me or see me, it was like my whole world shifted slightly. You know when you’re watching a video of something and the picture and the audio aren’t quite together and it’s just <em>wrong</em>? That’s how everything felt, and it wasn’t even like I had time to stop and even begin to try and fix it – there were so many other things that I had to focus on and do – and I had to do them all when the whole world around me was in the wrong place and trying to trip me up wherever I went. I really don’t know what I would have done without Murphy and Wells - they helped me get those first few things back in the right place again- and from there I could work on getting everything better and my life is back in <em>sync</em> now. All the time – almost – but then I see you and everything shifts again. Sometimes it’s just for a few seconds or a couple of hours, but sometimes it’s for days. I don’t <em>hate</em> you, Bellamy. I know I said I did but I don’t think I ever could, even if I tried. You just make everything go out of sync again, and until that stops happening, I don’t know what else I can do.”</p><p>Clarke isn’t quite sure when she started crying, or when Bellamy moves to be standing right in front of her, but she does know when he lifts his hands up to cup her cheeks and softly wipes away the tears that have slipped from her eyes.</p><p>“Please don’t cry. Please.” Bellamy’s voice cracks as he wipes another tear from her face. Clarke shivers, not necessarily because she’s cold, but the involuntary movement does appear to remind Bellamy that she’s currently standing in front of him in only her underwear. He lets out a breathy curse and heads for his wardrobe, rifling through it and pulling out his old Green Day shirt. It had always been Clarke’s favourite, and she had stolen it whenever the opportunity arose, “Here, put this on.”</p><p>She takes it gratefully and slips it on over her head. Both she and Bellamy are very aware that the fact she’s putting his clothes on doesn’t imply that she’ll be leaving soon. Clarke doesn’t know <em>why</em> she isn’t planning on going anywhere, she just knows that she isn’t.</p><p>“I’ll get us some water. Do you want anything else, food?” Bellamy offers – still speaking in that gorgeously soft voice.</p><p>“No, just water is fine thanks.” Clarke responds with a small smile, sitting back down on to the bed – on the side she’d sleep on when she used to stay over. She isn’t really sure what she’s doing – why she’s staying, she just knows that, although everything is still a mess, she feels calmer around him than she has done in a long time.</p><p>Bellamy heads to the kitchen, and returns with two glasses of water. They sip them in silence, sitting cross-legged on the bed, facing each other. When Clarke’s had enough, he takes her glass and places it alongside his on the bedside cabinet.</p><p>He sits back down and takes a deep breath before speaking, “I hate that I make you feel that way Clarke. I can’t put into words just how much it hurts me that I hurt you like that. I know that I can’t take it back, and I might never be able to make it up to you, but just know that I don’t think I’ve ever regretted something as much as this. I love you, and whatever happens I will always have love for you; I just need to make sure you know that.”</p><p>Clarke nods, reaching out to Bellamy and intertwining his fingers with her own, “I know. I promise I do, it just doesn’t change anything, not yet.”</p><p>“That’s okay,” Bellamy tightens his hold on her hand, “Let’s not think about the past or the future – about what has happened or could happen. Just, right now, is there anything I can do to make you feel better, just here in this moment?”</p><p>Clarke considers it for a moment, allowing herself to take some time to decide. </p><p>There is something he can do, that she wants him to do, so she tells him, “Just hold me, please. Just for tonight.”</p><p>Bellamy nods, and leans forward like he wants to kiss her forehead. When Clarke doesn’t pull away from him, he does just that. Then he gets off the bed and switches the bedroom light off. Whilst he’s up, Clarke lies down and pulls the duvet over her body. Bellamy slips back into the bed behind her, and she shifts herself towards him until she is lying in his arms – completely enclosed by them. She’s missed the feeling of being surrounded by him. He makes her feel safe – even when she can hardly bear to look at him. </p><p>They lie in silence for a moment, just existing with each other in a way that they haven’t done for so long.</p><p>Clarke breaks the silence, because she needs to. “This is just tonight – nothing more – okay?”</p><p>“I know,” Bellamy responds, face so close to her that she can feel his lips moving on her neck, “I understand. Get some sleep, Princess.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm not going to lie I had so much fun writing that final bit in Bellamy's apartment (it's also the closest to smut you're gonna get from me rip)</p><p>Clarke: I'm gonna drink wine and get really fucking horny and then try and fuck Bellamy<br/>Clarke (after everything has gone wrong and she's ended up crying and emotional again): oh no</p><p>but anyways, I hope you liked that and I love comments they literally make my day xoxo see you all soon for what is definitely going to be the last chapter</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here we are!! Thank you so much again for all the support on this fic - and I hope you enjoy the ending.</p><p>I've honestly enjoyed writing this one so much, have fun dudes xoxo</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Clarke isn’t sure whether she’d necessarily say that things <em>change</em> after the night she stays over at Bellamy’s, but she’s also not sure she could say that they stay the same. From an outsider’s viewpoint she’s sure that all can be seen is the fact that she and Bellamy still do not talk to each other – but for <em>her</em>, things might be different now. For one, the familiar panic that she’d learnt to live with whenever she knew she was going to see Bellamy had finally dissipated. She definitely didn’t look forward to seeing him – but it no longer terrified her. She even smiled at him sometimes – if they did happen to make eye contact, she didn’t look away as quickly as she could – she’d smile and he’d smile back, or maybe they’d roll their eyes if the moment called for it (and if Jasper was there, it almost always did). In conclusion – her stupid wine hazed trip to Bellamy’s had actually slightly improved things between them (even though she <em>still</em> hadn’t ended her dry spell).</p><p>When she had awoken in Bellamy’s bed the next morning, she hadn’t been sure what to do. Part of her hadn’t wanted to somehow wriggle out of his arms and get the fuck out before he’d woken up, but she knew that realistically, as soon as she moved, he was going to wake up too. She also recognised that sneaking out after she had been the one to barge in last night probably wasn’t the most responsible thing she could do. So - being the mature person she had decided to be in those few moments since she’d opened her eyes – she decided to do the simple thing and wait for Bellamy to wake up and choose what would be happening next.</p><p>It hadn’t taken him too long to wake up, although Clarke does admit she might have played a part in that with a few well-placed kicks. It wasn’t her fault – she’d needed to use the bathroom so he was going to have to get up sooner rather than later.  When he had shifted, she had used it as her opportunity to slip away and head to the toilet, and by the time she was finished he was already up and searching for breakfast – so she let him make it for her. Then she let him drive her home. She also kept his shirt.</p><p>She had called Murphy over later that day and told him everything. For once in his life he didn’t interrupt her until she had finished. Even when she had stopped talking, he just stared at her for a while, an unreadable expression plastered on his face. </p><p>Finally, he just shook his head and stated, “You’re so going to forgive him.”</p><p>Clarke shrugged, “I don’t know. It isn’t as easy as just deciding whether to do it or not.”</p><p>“But you want to.” Murphy had pushed.</p><p>“Maybe.” Had been Clarke’s answer – because that was the problem – she still wasn’t <em>sure</em>. As much as Bellamy meant - <em>means</em> - to her, she still doesn’t know if she has the strength to move forward with him without focusing on the past. Even if she does find it easier to be around him now, it doesn’t mean that it’s <em>easy</em>.</p><p>The biggest problem Clarke is having now is that, when she thinks of Bellamy and the possible future they might have, it isn’t a future as best friends. This is no longer about a friendship but more about romantic relationship – and Clarke has never been good at dealing with non-platonic emotions. Being honest, she hadn’t really been at all <em>shocked</em> when Bellamy told her that he had romantic feelings towards her – the shocking part had been his actions afterwards – but the fact that she had no problem believing his feelings for her had also lead to some confrontation of her own feelings towards him, and now she’s just really fucking confused.</p><p>She had thought that her and Bellamy’s friendship had been so secure but then suddenly it wasn’t, and now it was just a minefield of emotional turmoil and spirals and a possible romantic relationship that they had both successfully been ignoring for however long. They couldn’t ignore it now though. At some point they were going to have to talk about it, but at least Clarke could take comfort in the knowledge that it would be whenever she was ready. Bellamy wouldn’t push – not anymore.</p><p>The last thing she wants to do is rush into anything- whether that was a decision to give things a go with Bellamy or to cut any lingering strands of attachment off completely. Clarke wants to be sure – she hates having to come to a conclusion without knowing every fact and possible outcome – but this is something she’ll never be able to fully understand and control and that’s a whole other aspect of terrifying.</p><p>The Bellamy situation isn’t even the most pressing thing on her mind right now. Her dad’s birthday is coming up and that always bought with it a whole bunch of unwelcome feelings that Clarke hated having to deal with, and this year she had to face them without her mom by her side. When she had taken her mother to rehab this time, the idea of her not being back home by her dad’s birthday hadn’t even crossed her mind. However, Abby had ended up agreeing to stay for a full ninety-day cycle, which is something she had never done before. It was a good thing – for sure – if nothing else it showed how seriously she was taking her recovery and proved to Clarke that she was doing everything she could to ensure that this was the last time she ended up back in the facility – but Clarke still missed her. Especially right now.</p><p>All Clarke wants to do right now is stay at home and wallow with a takeaway and Netflix, but she can’t even do that because she has to be at Raven’s house soon for her birthday party. She’s going to be late. The party starts in half an hour and Clarke hasn’t even started getting ready. Oh well. The later she arrives the less time she has to spend there. </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Clarke leans against the kitchen counter, taking a deep breath and running her hands through her hair. The music is blasting from the front room and Clarke can feel the bass despite the multiple shut doors between herself and the speakers. She definitely wasn’t having the best time. It was <em>loud</em> and there were so many bodies crammed into the front room and everyone was shouting to be heard and Clarke just needs some <em>space</em>.</p><p>Clarke takes another deep breath; she had left the room with the excuse of going to the bathroom and getting another drink so she had a bit of time to gather her thoughts. She heads towards the backdoor - grabbing herself another beer as she passes the fridge - and out into the cool evening air where she lowers herself down to sit on the top step of the porch. She’s so tired, but she can’t leave Raven’s yet. She had been planning this party for a long time and had been insistent that all her friends were there for the cake – which was showing no sign of making an appearance soon. Her only option was to get really drunk and push away all the bad feelings. Not her healthiest coping method, but it would do the job for tonight. </p><p>The door opens behind her, but she doesn’t turn around. Hopefully it’s just someone coming out for a smoke that is happy to ignore her. </p><p>Sadly, that is not the case.</p><p> “Clarke,” It’s Bellamy, of course it is. His voice is soft, uncertain, “Are you okay? I don’t want to push anything but I’ve noticed today that you don’t seem…to be having a good time. I noticed you’d been gone for a while so I thought I should check on you.”</p><p>Of course, he’d be the one to notice. He still knows her better than anyone. Clarke shrugs in response to his question.</p><p>“Can I sit?” Bellamy asks, hovering awkwardly around her shoulders, “Or I can go and get someone else if you want, I just think you should talk to someone if something’s wrong.”</p><p>Typical Bellamy – always doing his best to fix everyone around him. Clarke finds that she isn’t annoyed by it this time though, she thinks she might even be grateful.</p><p>“No, it’s fine,” Even now - after so many confusing moments and emotions - she can’t think of anyone else that she wants to spill her heart to right now, “Stay.”</p><p>He lowers himself down on to the step next to her, ensuring to stay far enough away that they’re not touching each other at all. She doesn’t like that, so she drops her hand down so it’s next to where his is on the wood.</p><p>He waits quietly for her to talk, clearly having meant it when he said he didn’t want to push her. Clarke lifts the can of beer to her lips, drinking a generous amount before she speaks.</p><p>“It’s my dad’s birthday tomorrow. He would have been fifty.” Clarke laments, voice barely above a whisper. She drinks again. She doesn’t look at Bellamy.</p><p>Bellamy understands immediately. “Is your mom still in rehab?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>She and her mother shared a yearly tradition. Every time her dad’s birthday came around, they would go and visit his grave, and follow it with a meal at his favourite restaurant. That obviously couldn’t happen this year, and the guilt over forgetting to go to the grave on the anniversary of his death was still weighing heavy on her. It felt like she was betraying him, disrespecting his memory somehow. </p><p>“It isn’t your fault – you’re not letting him down.” Even after these months of being so distanced and messed up, Bellamy still knows what she’s thinking and still knows the right things to say.</p><p>“I know that, I guess. I’ve just – this year I haven’t kept the promises I made. I was supposed to look after mom, and instead she’s in rehab for the third time and even though she’s doing well right now, if things go wrong again, I don’t know what else I can do. He’d know what to do if he was here, he always did – he held us together. I wanted to be that person, but instead all I’ve done is lose my mom and lose my friends and lose you. I miss you; I do. Even though I’m still so fucking confused about everything that happened and what’s going to happen in the future, I think I want you in it.” Clarke’s speaking from the heart – she isn’t double guessing what she’s saying or thinking, she’s just telling him the truth.</p><p>“Clarke.” Bellamy’s voice cracks. It always seems to when he says her name nowadays.</p><p>“I was so angry at you, Bell,” Her voice cracks just like his did, “I don’t want to be angry at you anymore.”</p><p>She moves her hand just enough so that her little finger brushes against his on the step. He intertwines his fingers with her and squeezes softly.</p><p>“I’m not saying it’ll be like it was before, I don’t know if I <em>want</em> it to be, but I do want to try” she admits, finally looking up at his face. His eyes are shiny and there’s a small smile forming on his lips, “If you’re okay with trying too.”</p><p>“<em>Of course</em> I want to try, Clarke. You know that I’ll do anything I can to have you in my life, right? I don’t care <em>how</em> it is, as long as I‘ve got you.” Bellamy assures her. It feels good to hear him say it, even if she knew it anyway.</p><p>Clarke drops her head to his shoulder, and just lets herself rest there for a moment, listening to his breathing and the quiet thumping of the music and the sounds of the leaves rustling in the breeze. She feels at peace for the first time in a long time.</p><p>She doesn’t feel that same peace when she wakes up the next morning. Her head is banging, her stomach aches, and her throat is dry. She and Bellamy had re-joined the party, and whilst they hadn’t spoken about it or done anything particularly obvious, the fact that they had entered the room together clearly hadn’t gone unnoticed by their friends.</p><p> The closer it had gotten to midnight, though, Clarke had found herself unable to think of anything except her father, and that had led to her drinking whatever she could get her hands on – which is clearly what had resulted in this horrific hangover. She wishes she could say that she had remained in control of herself, but she does have some very vague memories of having to be accompanied home by Murphy and Emori and put into bed. Not her finest moment - <em>but</em> - she doesn’t remember crying at all so it was definitely going down as a win.</p><p>What definitely isn’t a win is how shit she feels right now. She purposefully hadn’t made any plans for today so that she could make whatever impulsive decisions she wanted to when it came to dealing with her grief, but the way she felt right now she would be surprised if she got out of bed much today. </p><p>That changes about an hour later, when she hears a knock on her front door. Clarke considers ignoring it for a moment, but she figures she should at least check that it isn’t anybody important. She knows she left her bag at Raven’s yesterday – it could be someone bringing it back.</p><p>It turns out that it <em>is</em> someone bringing back her bag - although they’re already gone by the time that she makes it there – leaving it on her doorstep along with a box full of everything she needs to cure her hangover. An all-day breakfast bagel from her favourite bakery, painkillers, fresh orange juice and a lot of chocolate. There are also two bouquets of flowers. There’s a bunch of pink and white lilies, which are gorgeous, but the other bunch catches her attention more. They’re blue balloon flowers – her dad’s favourites. She has no doubt about who it is who left these outside the door, but there’s also a handwritten note in there just in case she hadn’t been sure. </p><p>-	<b> Hi Princess. Thought you might want these today. I’m only a message away if you need anything. I’m so proud of you. Lots of Love, B. </b></p><p>Clarke can’t stop the smile that forms on her face, and she’s sure she’s blushing. It’s nice that he’s putting effort in, and she’s never going to complain about a box full of gifts left outside her apartment. The bagel and the orange juice were much needed, and after she’s finished them, she slips her phone out of her pocket and scrolls down to the number she blocked a few months ago. </p><p>It’s definitely time to unblock it.</p><p>-</p><p>Clarke stands in front of the grave, flowers held in one hand and the other shoved into her jacket pocket. Despite definitely feeling better than she had when she had first woken up – the weather is still very pertinent to her mood. The sky is grey and cloudy – it’s supposed to rain for hours later on.</p><p>She takes a deep breath and kneels down. The grass is damp, but she doesn’t really care. She places the flowers softly on to the grass in front of the marble.</p><p>“Hi Dad, sorry it’s been so long. Well, it’s been one year exactly, hasn’t it? I’m sorry for missing my other visit, things got a bit rough there for a while. Although, if you can actually hear me then I guess you’d already know that.”</p><p>Clarke snorts. She really doesn’t know why she does this – she doesn’t believe in the afterlife. It’s cathartic, more than anything. A way to get her feelings out without actually having to talk to someone that’s going to talk back.</p><p>“I’m sorry about mom, too. I should have noticed that things weren’t going well for her sooner, should have kept a closer eye on her. She’s sorry she can’t be here too, but hopefully she’ll be back home in the next month – maybe we’ll come and see you then – have a redo of your 50th birthday. Happy birthday, by the way.”</p><p>She sighs, reaching out a hand and tracing over the date on the gravestone.</p><p>“I wish you were here, dad. I miss you, and I miss your advice. Things could have gone so differently these past few months if I had it. You were always so sensible and in control of your emotions. How did you do that? You could find the solution to any problem. You’d be able to tell me what to do – about Bellamy. I’m not going to list everything that happened because we’d be here for hours and I would definitely cry and like I said – if you are up there you definitely already know. I just – even though I know he loves me, and I know he would never intentionally hurt me like he did again, I still don’t know if I can trust him. I had so much faith in him and he crushed that and what if I can never get it back?”</p><p>Clarke quickly wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. She’s not here to cry about Bellamy.</p><p>“I’m scared, more than anything, because I know that I love him too, but what if it isn’t enough? What if I take this final jump and then it explodes all over again and we can’t fix it this time? I want him in my life – I want to be <em>with</em> him but it just seems so...<em>risky</em>.”</p><p>She lets out a shaky laugh.</p><p>“Listen to me, talking to you about <em>risks</em> like I don’t know what you’d tell me to do. You used to hate it when I overthought things like this. You always said to trust your gut, dad, and I think I know what my gut's telling me to do.”</p><p>-</p><p>Clarke messages Bellamy asking if he wants to go out and get some food tonight. It takes him less than two minutes to reply back with a definite yes.</p><p>They end up at Diyoza’s Diner. They used to go together at least once a week – but Clarke hasn’t been since they fell out. It was somewhere too sacred to even try and go with someone else – but now they were back – and together.</p><p>It may be fate – or just luck – but their favourite booth in the corner of the diner is empty. Hope – the owner’s daughter – comes over to take their order. They get milkshakes (Clarke’s may have some alcohol in, but hey, it’s a rough day so she’s allowed), cheesy fries and fried chicken followed by an ice cream sundae to share – like they always do. It’s nice to be back here with Bellamy, it feels <em>right</em>. They talk like they used to, about anything and everything – it doesn’t matter <em>what</em> they’re talking about – the fact that they’re talking in and of itself is more than enough (as is the fact that Clarke’s emotions aren’t currently spiraling out of control).</p><p>By the time that they finish eating the storm that had been threatening earlier has broken and the rain is pouring down. It’s a problem, especially considering the fact that Clarke’s jacket doesn’t have a hood and Bellamy’s car is parked a few minutes walk away. </p><p>“Why would you not bring a coat?” Bellamy chastises, teasing, “Did you not look at the weather?”</p><p>“I didn’t think about it. I was focusing on other things!” Clarke defends herself. They’re currently standing beneath an overhang at the front of the diner. They were originally planning on waiting for the rain to slow down, but it doesn’t appear to be happening any time soon.</p><p>“Oh yeah? Like what?” Bellamy smirks at her. She likes his smirk.</p><p>“Like what I was going to wear for our <em>date</em>!” Clarke retorts.</p><p>She watches Bellamy’s smile grow wider as he puts on a mock-shocked voice, “You think this was a date, Princess? I’m sorry if I gave you wrong impression but – “</p><p>“Shut up you asshole!” She giggles. Look at her, giggling like a child because of <em>Bellamy</em>. If someone had told her that she’d be doing this a month ago she probably would have tried to get them committed. </p><p>Bellamy lets out a dramatic sigh and pulls his own (hooded) jacket from his shoulders. “I suppose if this is a date then I need to do the gentlemanly thing and offer you the jacket.”</p><p>“<em>Or</em>,” Clarke counters, “We could just share it.”</p><p>Bellamy shrugs, “If that’s what you want,” he lifts the jacket up so it’s held up over both of their heads, “Ready to run, Princess?”</p><p>Despite their attempt at shelter from the rain, both Bellamy and Clarke are completely soaked by the time they make it to the car. She should have been smart and accepted his offer of the jacket when she had the chance. The rain wasn’t all bad, though. Now that she’s in the car, she actually has the chance to take a look at Bellamy – and <em>boy</em> it’s a beautiful sight. His t-shirt is soaked through and clinging to his body – and his <em>arms</em>. Suddenly the car feels ten degrees warmer.</p><p>“See something you like, Princess?” Bellamy flirts. Of course he caught her looking. Then again, it wasn’t like she was being at all discrete. </p><p>“Possibly,” Clarke decides to flirt right back, “You know, I thought I might be getting wet tonight, but not like this.”</p><p>“Is that so.” Bellamy’s voice darkens and he smiles at her wickedly. Clarke has to stop herself from squirming in her seat.</p><p>She responds with a faint murmur of agreement, “I guess it all depends on whether you’re going to help me out or not.” She twists a strand of damp hair around her finger, noticing the way Bellamy’s fingers flex around the steering wheel. She has him exactly where she wants him.</p><p>“I think I could certainly do something for you,” His voice is deliciously low, she loves it, “My place or yours?”</p><p>“Mine. It’s closer.”</p><p>Bellamy certainly does something for Clarke – or more accurately - <em>to</em> her. By the time they're finished she’s a boneless mess in her bed with Bellamy’s arms wrapped around her. It feels like it’s exactly where she should be.</p><p>“Thank you, for giving me another chance.” Bellamy’s voice is soft. He sounds just as sleepy as she feels.</p><p>Clarke blindly reaches for where his hand is clasped round her waist, slipping her fingers between his. “Today is always a big day for me, it always makes me think about what’s <em>important</em> in my life, and what’s important to me is you, Bell,” Clarke takes a moment to pause and reflect on the fact they both seem to get <em>sappy</em> after sex. Perhaps they are perfect for each other. “Although, if you ever hurt me like you did again, I will have absolutely no problems in letting Murphy make your life a living hell.”</p><p>“I won’t. I swear,” Bellamy speaks insistently, “You’re it for me, Clarke. You know that, right? Not having you in my life these last few months has been horrific. I won’t give you a reason to leave again. I’ll always remember how I hurt you and I’ll never forgive myself for it.”</p><p>Clarke squeezes his hand tighter. “You don’t <em>need</em> to beat yourself up about it Bell. Not anymore, anyway. Is forgiveness what you need? I’ll give that to you – you’re forgiven – I forgive you. You’re it for me too.”</p><p>“I love you, Princess.”</p><p>“I love you too, Bell.”</p><p>-</p><p>“Where are we going, Bellamy?” Clarke huffs. It’s her birthday, and her boyfriend (<em>boyfriend</em> - she still feels slightly odd saying it) is not telling her where they’re going. He had taken her out to a restaurant, but now they were walking through the town hand in hand, and Bellamy was giving her no clues as to their next destination. He doesn’t even grace her with a response, just shoots a smirk in her direction. Granted – Clarke <em>has</em> asked the same question about five times in the last ten minutes – but still, she deserves to know, it’s <em>her</em> birthday, after all.</p><p>Finally, he leads her down a road that she recognises only too well, and her concern only grows as Bellamy slows down when they approach a building which she spends half of her <em>life</em> at.</p><p>“Bellamy, please do not tell me you’ve bought me to my <em>workplace</em> on my birthday.” Clarke monotones, raising a very unimpressed eyebrow at him.</p><p>Bellamy just smiles, leans towards her and places a quick kiss on her lips, “Stop being so <em>negative</em> Princess, you’re gonna love this. Trust me.”</p><p>“I’m not negative!” She pouts in response as Bellamy pulls a key she has no clue how he’s gotten a hold of out of his pocket and opens the front door. The alarm doesn’t go off, and she <em>knows</em> she set them when she left work earlier today so that means that someone who also knows the code is here, or at least <em>has</em> been recently.</p><p>Clarke also knows that Bellamy has been incredibly excited for whatever he has planned, and that excitement has definitely rubbed off on her but she really hates not knowing things at the same time. The last few weeks have been interesting. She had done anything and everything she could think of to convince Bellamy to cave and tell her what the surprise was, but nothing had worked. Even an offer of a week of blowjobs whenever he wanted hadn’t worked – not that she was ever really <em>averse</em> to giving Bellamy blowjobs but that is currently not the point anyway.</p><p>“Shut your eyes.” Bellamy orders.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Shut your eyes, Princess. I don’t want you to know where we’re going.” He repeats, nudging her playfully.</p><p>“I’m pretty sure I can work out where we’re walking even with my eyes shut, Bellamy. I walk these halls every day.” Clarke retorts, sticking her tongue out at him. Possibly a childish move but who cares – it’s her <em>birthday</em> - she’s allowed to be childish – right?</p><p>“Good point,” Bellamy acquiesces, “I’ll just have to spin you round before we start moving then.”</p><p>Clarke rolls her eyes but she can’t stop smiling. She does as she was told and shuts her eyes, and Bellamy does what he says he would– spinning her by her shoulders until she has no idea what way she is facing – and then begins leading her through the gallery. </p><p>There are no stairs to contend with, which means that they must be heading to one of the downstairs exhibition rooms. She knows a few of them have been rented out for private displays – but none were supposed to be tonight. What was going on?</p><p>“Keep your eyes shut, okay?” Bellamy reiterates as his hands leave her shoulders for a few moments to open a door. Clarke is desperate to see what’s going on around her, but she doesn’t want to ruin anything that’s been planned so she keeps them closed. Soon enough his hand is placed on her lower back and he slowly pushes her forward. Wherever they are – it’s quiet, but she thinks she can hear breathing – and other people shuffling around that aren’t her and Bellamy.</p><p>“Okay,” Bellamy speaks – she can hear the excitement in his voice, “You can open your eyes in three, two, one!”</p><p>Clarke opens her eyes and can’t help the gasp that escapes from her lips. She was correct that they were in one of the downstairs exhibition rooms – her favourite one actually – with high ceilings and lots of alcoves and shelving built into the walls. The room is filled with her friends – Wells, Murphy, Raven, Roan, Echo, Emori and <em>everybody</em> - every person that she loves that isn’t family is standing with her, but that isn’t the only reason she is surprised.</p><p>The walls are covered in her artwork. Some of the pieces are proper paintings and drawings that she had spent hours creating, but there are just as many – if not more – rough sketches and jokey portraits that she had given to her friends over the years. She recognises images from drunk games of Pictionary and all the sketches she made of her friends as superheroes and she can even see the Shrek-Murphy hybrid she drew when she was stoned. There are things she hardly remembered creating that must be years old. Her brain isn’t quite computing what it <em>means</em>.</p><p>“Oh my god.” Is all that comes out of her mouth.</p><p>“Welcome to the Clarke Griffin exhibition.” Bellamy smiles warmly, waving his arm around the room. He must have spent hours organising this and decorating the room – and the fact that every single one of her friends are here and they all kept it a secret from her? That in itself is extremely impressive on its own. </p><p>“I – wow,” Clarke isn’t sure what to <em>say</em>, “I didn’t even know you kept any of these. I just assumed they would have gotten thrown away over time.”</p><p>“Of course not!” Monty gasps, “We keep all the Clarke Griffin originals!”</p><p>“Yeah, to sell when you get famous.” Jasper tags on, earning himself an elbow in the ribs from Maya.</p><p>“I can’t believe this – I love it – Thank you guys.” Clarke can feel herself welling up – and even though they would definitely be happy tears, she had promised herself when she woke up this morning that this year would involve a lot less crying than the last one had, so crying was not part of the plan.</p><p>“Of course you love it,” Murphy drawls with a smirk, “This entire room is designed entirely to feed into your Leo narcissism.”</p><p>“Shut up, Murphy.” At least three of her friends pipe up at the same time. Clarke snorts and pulls him in for a hug.</p><p>“Thank you, Murphy.”</p><p>“I appreciate it, Griffin. I would say no problem but do you know how much time I had to spend with your <em>boyfriend</em> to help him with this?” He teases good-naturedly. Despite their extremely rocky start and the fact they still constantly bickered, Murphy and Bellamy were something close to friends now.</p><p>Clarke is sure that this is the best birthday she’s ever had – even better than when she turned nine and her parents took her to Disneyland. She drinks a lot of champagne, and it turns out there were also multiple drinking games planned such as ‘Pin the Tail on Clarke’s Hyper-Realistic Horse Drawing’ and ‘Guess What Clarke Had Been Drinking When She Drew This’!</p><p>At one point she finds herself standing in front of a collection of images on napkins from when she went through her phase of drawing flowers on every available surface. She isn’t sure who kept them – who kept <em>half</em> of the things in the room really – and she still can’t wrap her head around the fact that they meant enough that people <em>wanted</em> to keep them at all. Even when she had fallen out with everyone - they still kept them. She had always figured that when everything had gone wrong, everyone had just removed all traces of her from their life and she had never really wanted to ask about it – but this proved that they hadn’t. Some of the drawings on the walls were years old.</p><p>She’s pulled out of her thoughts by familiar arms wrapping around her waist from behind and a chin landing on her shoulder.</p><p>“What are you thinking about, Princess?” Bellamy’s voice is light and happy. He’s had a fair amount of champagne as well. Tomorrow probably won’t be a very productive day for them.</p><p>“Just how much it means to that all of you guys kept these things I made – and how nice it is seeing them displayed like this. I can’t wait until I have some work in a public exhibition again.” Clarke responds, smile growing as Bellamy softly kisses her cheek.</p><p>“It will be soon, Clarke, and when it is, I’m gonna come and see it and I’ll be the proudest boyfriend in the universe.”</p><p>Bellamy is right – only three months later her artwork is displayed in another professional exhibition at the gallery. There are four pieces on display this time – and the name of the entire series of paintings is Peace. </p><p>First there is Pain. It’s a messy apartment full of half-empty bottles and dark shadows. The lights are off and the curtains drawn.</p><p>The following painting is entitled Sleep – there’s a half-made bed and two figures so tightly entwined it’s hard to see where one begins and the other ends. The only defining features are a mop of curly dark hair compared to long blonde waves.</p><p>Catharsis comes next – there’s a gravestone and blue flowers and sun shining in streaks through the grey clouds. A faceless, lone figure kneels in the grass.</p><p>Finally, there is Forgiveness – two silhouettes running through the rain as they leave a classic diner – a jacket pulled over their heads to keep them dry and hands clasped together. </p><p>They’re smiling – happy.</p><p>Just like Clarke and Bellamy.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Bro I know the ending is soft as shit but isn't that what we deserve?<br/>Please let me know what you think xoxo</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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